


Classified

by 1000Needles, Sekiei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Excruciatingly Slow Burn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 03:37:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 377
Words: 164,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10608507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000Needles/pseuds/1000Needles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sekiei/pseuds/Sekiei
Summary: Ignis and Gladio get a couch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Updates are being posted in real time, corresponding to when letters are sent by Blaze and Behemoth, with Insomnia Standard Time (IST) equivalent to Greenwich Mean Time (GMT).

  


 

(For more accessibility, if needed by some readers: above is a clipping from a newspaper titled the "Insomnia Daily". The date is the 30th of August. It's a classified ad that reads: 

18 years old male living a busy and sheltered life through no fault of his own looking for a pen pal. Happy to talk about anything and everything, has a working knowledge of most topics and enjoys learning more. If interested, send email to [blaze@eosmail.com](mailto:blaze@eosmail.com). Genuine enquiries only.)

  



	2. Chapter 2

> Subject: **classified**
> 
> Sun, Aug 30 at 9:44 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hey, I saw your ad in the paper and thought you sounded interesting. I’ve never had a pen pal before but I love to write and I don’t get to meet many guys my own age. What do you like to do for fun? I read a lot. What are your favorite books? Who are your favorite authors? Mine are Bansat, Elza, Arvis, anything by Montblanc, most of Artania’s earlier stuff. What kinds of things did you want to talk about?

 


	3. Chapter 3

> Subject: **Re: classified**
> 
> Mon, Aug 31 at 11:03 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

Thank you for your kind message. I wasn’t really expecting anyone to answer my ad but I felt it was worth a shot. I’m now glad I went through with it. If it’s not too personal, how come you do not meet other people your age? I thought I was the only one facing that predicament.

You do sound like you read a lot. I have heard of the books you mentioned but I’ve seldom had the opportunity to read them. I have been fortunate to receive a rather exhaustive education and I have read most of the classics for my studies: from the Wise Man of Solheim to the discourses of Queen Beza, that kind of thing. I wish I had more time to read modern literature, you certainly seem to enjoy it.

To answer your question, for fun, I like to listen to music, but my tastes wouldn’t be appreciated where I work so I can only do it when I’m alone and with headphones. I also enjoy thunderstorms. I assume you’re in Insomnia if you read the ‘Insomnia Daily’, do you remember the one we had last Thursday?

I watched it well into the night. By 3am, the lightning was so bright, I could see all the way to the walls, and every time thunder struck the city shields it would bounce back and spark outwards, drawing an ever-changing maze in the sky. It was beautiful. My mind goes really quiet during thunderstorms, it’s peaceful. Hopefully, the autumn will bring us more.

Sorry, the first email I’m sending you and I’m talking about the weather. I guess I don’t really know how to do this. Feel free to ask more questions if you’d like. I’m looking forward to hearing from you (if I haven’t bored you already!).

Blaze

 


	4. Chapter 4

> Subject: **Thunder & lightning**
> 
> Tue, Sep 1 at 8:32 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Boring? Not at all. Thought I must have bored you, asking a bunch of questions about books. I haven't read any of the ones you mention. I'll have to check the library and see if they have them in stock. Always looking for something new to read. (Those don't sound like page-turners, but my mind could probably use some expanding.)

Why don't I meet other people my age? Well, I work a lot. Long hours. And mostly with older people who aren't much into reading. Some my age, but no one very interesting. I guess you could say I'm a teacher of sorts, so I work with kids too. Don't get me wrong, they're great. But it's a little suffocating. Makes a guy want to take off for a week or two and sleep under the stars.

Speaking of which—hell yeah, I remember that thunderstorm. In fact I was thinking then how much fun it would be if I were outside the Wall where I could really enjoy it. There's nothing really better than a good thunderstorm, is there? I kicked off my shoes and curled up with a juicy book and a mug of hot chocolate. Stayed up all night watching the lightning. My ass was dragging the next day, but it was worth it.

You didn't answer my question, though. Is there anything in particular you wanted to talk about? Just curious. You don't have to answer. Figured it was worth asking.

Oh yeah, I forgot to ask. What kind of music do you like? Give me Maria any day, I don't know if you're into opera but the voice on that woman is fucking _exquisite._ Great letter. Thanks for writing back.

 


	5. Chapter 5

> Subject: **Re: Thunder & lightning**
> 
> Wed, Sep 2 at 2:14 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

Thank you once again for your quick reply. I apologise for not answering your question last time. I guess I’m not exactly sure of the answer myself.

It’s somewhat embarrassing to admit but last week someone had a go at me, saying I was - and I quote - ‘a repressed goody two shoes with a stick up his ass who wouldn’t know fun if the Six whacked him with it in the face.’

I still maintain I was right to point out that he needed to eat more fruits and vegetables; but that barb about scurvy was a joke. Needless to say it was lost on him.

In fairness, I should add that he was rather stressed by other issues at the time and he did apologise to me later on. But I still found myself pondering the words despite my best judgement and I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was some truth to them. I hardly have the opportunity to socialise outside of work, and it may have stunted my ability to relate with - let’s say - regular people. In all honesty, even if I had the time, I wouldn’t know where to start. So I thought the ad was a good compromise. Turns out, based on your emails so far, it was one of my more inspired ideas.

I do realise I still haven’t answered your question. In essence, I want to talk about anything friends usually talk about; I, however, only have a vague idea of what that entails. Feel free to enlighten me.

And you’re a teacher… that’s interesting. What do you teach? I hope your students are less unruly than mine. I only have the one, but he’s a rather reluctant study. I’m a private - long-suffering - tutor (see anecdote above).

Glad you get it about the thunderstorm. I was worried it might sound weird. And hot chocolate? Not for me. Coffee is more my thing. I… might have to admit to a slight addiction. Speaking of, I was thinking back on your question. What I do for fun. And I have to say I do like cooking, I have to do it as part of my job, but I enjoy experimenting in my spare time as well. Let me know if you decide to read any of the books I mentioned (I suggest you start by Queen Beza’s writing. She had a brilliant mind and it’s reasonably accessible). I only have limited time but if I should try one of yours, which one would you recommend?

Music-wise, Maria has a beautiful voice for sure. But I listen to underground power metal mostly, the lyrics are more inspired than what you can hear on the official radios, and it has energy. I find it helpful. I’d like to write more but I should go to sleep. Need to get up in three hours. 

Blaze

 


	6. Chapter 6

> Subject: **I am going to strangle my sister (just kidding) (seriously though)**
> 
> Wed, Sep 2 at 7:08 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Oh yeah, kids can be a handful. Me, I have a little sister, and I love her more than I can say, but some days I want to drop her outside the Wall just so I can get a little peace and quiet, you know? I teach physical education and self-defense, and I swear it's like dragging a cat on a leash. Never been called a goody two-shoes, but let's see... "big dumb jerk," "sadistic prick" and other choice epithets I won't share with you.

Hey, your guess is as good as mine for what regular people talk about. Everyone I work with is— it's hard to explain. Singularly devoted to one particular focus. And so am I, but it would be nice to talk about other stuff sometimes. Like cooking! I love cooking! Well, noodles. The kind you make with hot water. Does that count?

And I love to talk about books. Sorry, I probably sound like a nerd. I'll check out Queen Beza this weekend when I have more time. Damn, three hours sleep, you're worse than I am. But I sleep in till noon on weekends.

If you haven't read any of the authors I mentioned, start with Montblanc. _The Red Mage of Mysidia_ is great. Super exciting. Lots of action. If you're into that kind of thing.

Uh, I don't think I know what underground power metal is but it sounds cool?

Well, have a good day. My sister just spilled orange juice all over my favorite hoodie. So much for a leisurely breakfast. (I cooked eggs for her, but I burned the toast. Oops.)

 


	7. Chapter 7

> Subject: **Please refrain from strangling her.**
> 
> Thu, Sep 3 at 12:02 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth, 

Might I suggest you make your sister Altissian toast next time? Just beat an egg as if you were to make an omelette, add half a cup of milk and dip the bread in until it’s soft, but don’t let it get soggy. Then fry the toast on both sides over a medium fire. When still warm dust it with cane sugar to get the edges crisp and caramelised. I promise you those are really hard to burn as long as you don’t abandon them on the stove!

I have a bad feeling about what you seem to mean by ‘cooking noodles’; but I will save this discussion for another time, else this email will start to sound like a cooking textbook. I hope you do not think my comments too forward, I only aim to help.

My pupil has been difficult again. Some jerk who’s in charge of his physical education (you might relate…) has been ranting to him about proteins and how they’re all that truly matters. It might have been a joke, but I didn’t appreciate the undermining of my efforts to get him to eat a complete and nutritionally balanced diet. Why do youngsters have to be so difficult? 

I went to the library to borrow _The Red Mage of Mysidia._ Unfortunately, they did not have that particular volume. They told me it was quite popular and they had to replace it four times after patrons failed to return it. They’ve now given up on it all together.

I shall order it from the bookstore in town instead at the earliest opportunity. Unfortunately, it might take me a few weeks to find the time to go there. My weekends are spent catching up on news I have missed during the week and preparing my lessons for the next few days. I am rather uncomfortable with free time, never knowing what to do with myself, and as a result, I have accrued a probably unreasonable amount of responsibilities I am required to see to. A normal working week is hardly enough. 

Action… I don’t know if I’m ‘into that kind of thing’ but I’m happy to give it a go. One of my all time favourite is Hapertas’s Treatise on the Art of Innovative Strategy. It is very much applied and contains vivid descriptions of battle strategies I enjoy reading about in detail. As you can see, this is quite the action-oriented study, so I’d say there’s a good chance I’ll like the book you recommended.

Power metal is a unique style, I don’t know if you’ll appreciate it. You could listen to Hunters of Ifrit’s second album, _Hysteosria,_ it’s got a rocky sound that makes it a good introduction to the genre. If you enjoy it, they have shows in Insomnia every so often.

Rain has started to fall, I am going to go to the roof in the hope lightning will follow.

Blaze

 


	8. Chapter 8

> Subject: **BLAZE YOU’RE A FREAKING GENIUS**
> 
> Sat, Sep 5 at 2:07 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

She loved it!

After I read your email, I couldn't wait to try the recipe. (You definitely have a way with words.) So I cut my usual Friday exercise routine a little short and snuck out early to buy bread at that fancy Altissian market down in the Marsh Ward—you know the one? They have the best bread, really light and fluffy and always fresh.

This morning we didn't have anywhere to be, so I cooked for her while she watched cartoons. (She's really too old for that. I spoil her. Do you have younger siblings? If yes, you probably know exactly what I mean.) It was nice and peaceful and the rain was lashing the windows—the perfect weekend morning. Success!!

And it didn't get burned at all. I'm feeling spurred to greater confidence in my ongoing efforts to develop the ultimate noodle recipe. (I think you might have misunderstood. It's not just hot water. I often add shrimp or meat as well.)

While we're on that topic, it sounds like your coworker might have his priorities a bit mixed up. It's true that high-quality proteins are the cornerstone of an effective meal plan, but there's nothing wrong with a few carbs on certain occasions (see paragraph above!). I suggest you tell this guy to crack a nutrition textbook once in a while.

So anyway, did you get a good lightning storm that night? I probably slept through it. But it's still raining now and my sister went out with her pals so I have the whole place to myself. It's a little lonely but I'm good at keeping myself entertained. Are you really working this afternoon? Don't you need time to unwind after the week? I've got a big pile of books (Queen Beza on top!) and that's all I need.

That reminds me, I actually happen to have an extra copy of _The Red Mage of Mysidia_ (long story). If you don't mind sharing your mailing address, I’d be happy to send it your way. And of course I understand if you don't want to give that information out. It's a really good book though!!!

In nutritional solidarity,

Behemoth

P.S. Sorry for the delayed response. Work stuff.

P.P.S. Going to stream that record now.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

 

(Front and back of the album _Hysteosria_  from 'Hunters of Ifrit'. 

The front is in yellow and red tones and features a stylised cracked wall with a stone arc and within it a swirly, distorted, red shape. The title of the album is curling around it.

The back repeats the name of the band and of the album and adds a track list:

1\. Ifrit's Realm  
2\. Mantigora  
3\. Wasted Affections  
4\. Pitioss' Entrails  
5\. Into Shiva's Iced Mirror  
6\. Mournful Souls of Solheim  
7\. The Darkening  
8\. Fallen Kings  
9\. Daemonmaker  
10\. Faith and Prophecies  
11\. The Daemon You Turned Into (live in Insomnia)

http://www.huntersofifrit.eos

Scourge Records)

 


	10. Chapter 10

> Subject: **So I’ve been told.**
> 
> Sat, Sep 5 at 10:08 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I’m glad to hear from you. I was starting to worry I’d been too forward with my culinary advice. Good to know it actually paid off and your sister enjoyed it.

But I cannot let your anathema about noodles slide. Stock is what makes the dish; a complex, spiced, broth subtly complements and supports the toppings, while ensuring that noodles stay just firm enough to be enjoyable. It highlights the skilled hand of the cook and brings the palate of the gourmet to life.

Stock is what you should concentrate on if you have any desire to perfect a noodle recipe. I would argue that since you did not even mention it, your goal is still quite far out of reach. Do not give up but forget toppings - hell, even forget noodles! - for a while and work on your stock. You’ll thank me in the end.

As I feared, you are a typical physical trainer with a rather depressing view of food. One cannot live healthily on processed carbs and proteins alone, the mind certainly can’t. Actually this might explain the poor reasoning abilities of most of the military advisors I’ve had the bad fortune to meet. In any case, maybe open that nutrition textbook again. A fruit salad might do you good.

Unfortunately, thunder did not come the other night. I ended up thoroughly drenched, but the spring rains are always surprisingly warm and it wasn’t unpleasant.

I hope you enjoyed your idle afternoon; I was, indeed, working through it. I had to prepare a class for next week on the ethical limitations of utilitarianism from a leadership standpoint. It’s an interesting and challenging topic though, so I did not mind the time I spent on it.

I’m looking forward to hearing your opinion on Queen Beza’s writings.

If you really do not need that copy of _The Red Mage of Mysidia,_ I’d be grateful to receive it. I have a postal box you could use: P.O. 47782, Crown Post Office, Insomnia. Thank you in advance.

I might try for a early night for once if I can convince my body to stop fighting me. I struggle to fall asleep before 2am usually, but this week has been surprisingly exhausting, so it’s worth a shot.

Let me know how you get on with your stock! Don’t rush it. Creating a worthy stock is an art that takes patience and dedication (and good ingredients, but you’ve already proven you know where to find those!). 

Blaze

 


	11. Chapter 11

> Subject: **Re: So I've been told.**
> 
> Sun, Sep 6 at 3:06 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hey Blaze,

Anyone ever tell you you're a pretty intense guy? I can see why you like that music. I dropped the book in the mail today, so you should get it sometime this week. During our earlier correspondence I worried it might be a bit lightweight for you, but after reading your email this morning, I changed my mind. It sounds like you could use a break. It’s clear you have strong opinions about nutrition, but have you considered that overwork and lack of sleep can be equally deleterious to the human body, if not more so? Sorry to get personal here, but I'm familiar with the irritable tone of someone who isn't getting enough rest. Sometimes it takes a stranger to point something like that out. I imagine your student and coworkers are used to your self-sacrifice and don't give it a second thought.

Just a little friendly advice from your local physical trainer (atypical only in my fondness for opera, I'm afraid). I am currently preparing a fruit smoothie for myself, as I do every afternoon. They are delicious.

Big, dumb, and well-hydrated,

Behemoth

P.S. Okay, I admit, I’m intrigued by your description of the noodle stock. It does sound better than hot water. I looked it up online and it’s kinda overwhelming. Days of boiling garula bones? Have you really done this? I guess I could try on a weekend, if my sister didn’t get her hands on it and mess it up.

P.P.S. And you’re right, Queen Beza is brilliant. I don’t usually read nonfiction but it’s a fascinating insight into that time period. Can you imagine what it must have been like to live through the Enlightenment? So many great artists, philosophers, architects. Hard to believe it was only a few centuries ago. There's a portrait of her I've seen—she had a fearless face, so regal and wise. And with King Tellaris being such a weakling, she made it all happen, supported it all, was the patron of an entire kingdom and still found the time to write those books—how strong she must have been.

 


	12. Chapter 12

> Subject: **Here we are.**
> 
> Tue, Sep 8 at 04:32 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

Many people have, indeed, commented on how intense I can be. Sometimes not even using such serene language, as in the anecdote I told you of in one of my previous letters. I guess it was only a matter of time before you joined that train. It seems to be an inescapable turning point of my attempts at building human connections. I should at least thank you for sparing my feelings by using a rather unaggressive way of pointing it out.

I am compelled to mention here that - while I truly enjoy our exchanges - I do not want you to feel you have to answer these letters. More than anything, I do not want your pity because you feel I’m lonely or need the company. If this does not work for you, I will make my peace with it. 

I also owe you an apology. It’s clear I brushed a nerve with that comment about you being a ‘typical physical trainer’. It wasn’t fair. I know too little of you to make such a judgement and you were right to point out that tiredness might have led me astray in that regard. I have many people around me who think physical prowess is the be all and end all of achievements. While I value physical exercise, that position can sometimes be frustrating and shortsighted, and it might have made me resentful and quick to criticise. My apologies.

I do appreciate your concern about my work pattern. It unfortunately lacks flexibility and there’s little I can do about reducing that burden.

I would encourage you to make a proper stock. It takes a long time but it needs precise oversight only at a few critical moments. If you would like to, go to the Leide Hunter Cooperative, near the East Gate. Tell them Blaze sent you and they’ll give you a package I’ve put together with all you need to make a beginner stock and I’ve added some instructions as well. It’s reasonably easy and priced, so you could do it on your own again. I’m afraid the time-consuming factor is just a staple of good cooking. I’m also joining a mix of rare spices since one can never have too many and it’s the easiest way to start experimenting with your own cooking.

I’m glad you’re enjoying Queen Beza’s writing. Her time was indeed a golden age I would have very much liked to live through.

I will wait for the book. Thank you for sending it. Let me know where would be the best place to return it.

Intense, weary, and over-caffeinated,

Blaze

 


	13. Chapter 13

> Subject: **Re: Here we are.**
> 
> Tue, Sep 8 at 9:03 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hey, Blaze, listen—don't beat yourself up about it, okay? Sure, you hurt my feelings a little. I'm used to people thinking I'm a big dumb jock. Water under the bridge. But take care of yourself, all right? (Yeah, I noticed the time stamp on your email.)

My morning run takes me past the hunters’ shop, so I stopped in and picked up your package. Garula bones are surprisingly heavy! Do you get down to that part of the city frequently? It's one of my favorites—there’s a trail that goes through the park and comes out on the waterfront and you’d almost think you were outside the Wall, it's so peaceful and quiet; you can't even see the skyscrapers through the trees.

Anyway, I tried asking, but they wouldn't tell me a thing about you. Ifrit’s balls, how did you manage to secure such loyalty from the hunters? Those guys would sell their own grandmother for a few gil. I'm impressed.

I meant to wait till the weekend, but I couldn't resist unpacking everything when I got home from work. And then I figured why not get started now? (Is there _anything_ better than a bowl of noodle soup on a rainy Saturday?)

See Exhibit A, with Exhibit B to follow in a few days when these damn bones are done boiling:

 

(Above is a photograph of a package wrapped in butcher paper, a small pitcher of oil, and an onion, leeks, garlic, ginger, scallions, and alstrooms.)

 

Our houseman has promised to keep an eye on it while I'm at work tomorrow. I trust him with my life, so I suppose I can trust him with the garula stock.

The book is a gift, no need to return it.

Intensity isn't a bad thing. Most people could use a lot more of it. I don't pity you. I think you're interesting. But you do sound lonely. Isn't it strange that we could both be in such a huge city but have no one to really talk to? I'm glad you placed that ad.

Oh fuck the pot is boiling over, talk soon

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

 

 _Dear Behemoth,_  

_Here’s the recipe._

_I’ve made sure the hunters give you pre-roasted chickatrice bones to save you from having to carve the bird and roast the bones yourself. If you fancy doing all the steps once you’re more familiar with the recipe, I’ll be happy to provide guidance._

_You can, of course, use it to make a luscious ramen, but also as a base for a soup or to wet a roast with. It’s a forgiving flavour so I’d encourage you to experiment and be creative with it._  

_Enjoy. Let me know how you fare._

_Blaze_

 

**Garula Stock**

  * 1 pound of pre-roasted chickatrice bones and backbone
  * 2½ pounds garula trotters, split lengthwise or cut crosswise into 1-inch disks (the hunters will have done this for you)
  * 2 tablespoons grapeseed oil
  * 1 bulbous wild onion, skin on and quartered lengthwise
  * 1 head of garlic, skin on and halved crosswise to expose the cloves
  * 1 small knob of Kettier ginger, skin on and roughly chopped
  * 2 leeks, roughly chopped and rinsed well
  * 2 dozen scallions, white parts only (reserve light and dark green parts for garnish)
  * 6 ounces of whole alstrooms



Place chickatrice bones, backbone, and garula trotters in a large soup pot and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil.

Meanwhile, put a heavy frying pan over medium heat and heat grapeseed oil until lightly smoking. Add onion, garlic, and ginger and toast until lightly charred on most sides, about 15 minutes. Set aside.

As soon as it comes to a boil, remove pot from heat, transfer bones to a colander, and rinse well. Using a chopstick and cold running water, remove blood, dark marrow, and anything else that isn't beige or white.

Return bones to the soup pot and add charred vegetables, leeks, scallion whites, and alstrooms. Cover with cold water and bring to a rolling boil over high heat, skimming off any scum that appears and wiping off any black or grey scum from around the rim of the pot.

Reduce heat to a low simmer and cover. Check the pot after 15 minutes; it should be at a slow rolling boil. If not, slightly increase or decrease heat as needed. Continue boiling until stock is opaque and thickened to the texture of light cream, about 10–12 hours, checking periodically to ensure bones are submerged and adding more water if necessary.

Remove from heat and let cool until safe to handle, no more than 1 hour. Place a colander on top of a large pot.

Drape with cheesecloth folded into a large square. Strain stock into the colander. Discard bones and vegetables, cover, and refrigerate overnight.

When ready to use, skim the fat from the surface and bring to a simmer over low heat.

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

(A handwritten note that reads, "Hope you enjoy this as much as I did. B.")

 

 

 

(These are the front and back covers of a book titled _The Red Mage of Mysidia,_ by I.G. Montblanc. The front cover displays a white feather being used as a quill pen and dripping something red: ink or possibly blood? The back cover identifies the printer as Glaive Press Modern Classics, priced at 250 gil and printed in Lucis. The text reads:

With an Introduction and Notes by Doctor Tot, Royal University of Crown City

Set in the years following the fall of Solheim, _The Red Mage of Mysidia_ held Eos in thrall when it was first serialized in newspaper installments. The harrowing, erotic tale of passion and revenge is a gripping portrait of a world beset by war. In it the dashing young hero, a respected nobleman of Lucis, is thrown into exile with a disreputable mage hiding a dark past. The unlikely duo must work together to unmask the enemies working against them, while surviving a dizzying web of secrets and lies, magic and corruption, and unavoidable destiny.

The sensational narrative of intrigue, betrayal, romance, and triumphant retribution moves at a cracking pace. This edition features the complete unabridged text of Montblanc's masterpiece, a novel of swashbuckling action and adventure that continues to thrill readers more than a hundred years after it was written.)

 


	16. Chapter 16

> Subject: **Good luck!**
> 
> Thu, Sep 10 at 12:13 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth, 

I appreciate your magnanimity. And well, I did go to bed before writing that email, but the words kept dancing in my head and sleep escaped my grasp. I had to get up and compose that answer or I would not have gotten any rest. It felt like something I needed to do, particularly if you were to decide not to pursue our correspondence any longer. It felt preferable to rip the bandaid quickly, I suppose. But I’m glad I did not have to.

I went to pick up the book this morning. After dropping my pupil at his friend’s for the afternoon (they told me they’d use that time to study together, I told them I was Queen Beza’s Great Aunt), I decided I’d take your advice regarding my working hours and give myself a break. I went to the East Gate Park and found a nice bench lost in the trees; it felt like the right place to read your book somehow. I got through _The Red Mage of Mysidia_ in about an hour and half and it left me quite confused. It was certainly entertaining but I mostly remembered the historical inaccuracies and errors that litter it.

However, when I came home tonight, and despite work having piled up, I felt compelled to open it again and locate some passages that had made an impression without my knowing. I sat at my desk reading them, out loud to stop myself from speed-reading through the whole thing again (a habit I’ve developed at work and that is quite hard to switch off once acquired).

The part where the Red Mage finally understands where his powers come from and what terrible price has to be paid for them is my favourite. How torn he is, the suspense when he wavers, all the while Roland thinking he’s been abandoned to his dismal fate… I wondered if it would turn into a new _Daphne and Ophelia_ where one lover has to powerlessly watch the other getting devoured by the Starscourge. I’m glad it had a more cheerful ending.

The kiss scene is quite emotional as well and long overdue by the time it happens. But of course, the author has to make them lose their balance and fall head first in that hay pile. It feels at times as if Montblanc is worried the romance might hurt the entertainment value of the plot. While I understand this considering the general tone of the story, I was still mildly disappointed that we did not get to explore Roland’s relationship with his sworn mage in more depth. Anyway, I should stop rambling on about a book you know so well. You did say there was a story behind how you got that extra copy. Tell it to me instead?

About the hunters, you answered your own question. A man who would sell his grandmother for a few gils will walk through fire for a regular and profitable custom. And since, yes, I do go to that shop often, my privacy is guaranteed.

What did you want to know? Feel free to ask. But I’m not promising to answer.

Let me know how your stock progresses. It will certainly be lovely to have it done in time for the weekend.

I now need to stop with the distractions for a while, a couple of hours work and I’ll be ready for bed.

Blaze

 


	17. Chapter 17

> Subject: **You read it!!!**
> 
> Thu, Sep 10 at 8:14 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Wow, you read faster than I do! Oh yeah, the section where the Red Mage figures everything out is fantastic. One of my favorite parts is when they're in the labyrinth of the dead and Roland has to follow behind him blindfolded lest they be attacked by necromancers. So creepy! And when they join the pirate troupe and pretend to be rogues, and then tear off their masks in the midst of battle and reveal their true identities. Roland's triumphant speech is so satisfying.

You're right, the haystack scene is a little silly. But after the slapstick comedy with the goats, when they finally find themselves in a proper bed—it's beautifully described. Almost better than all the swordfighting bits.

I wish he'd written a sequel. I absolutely agree with you—what happened next, after they finally got back to Lucis and Roland was restored to the court? Did they stay together? I think they stayed together and lived happily ever after. I guess that wouldn't be a very exciting plot for a book, though.

See, now I'm the one who's rambling. You get me talking about books, I won't shut up.

Okay, here's a story for you. When I was about eight or nine I spent a whole summer reading through all of Montblanc's novels in the children's section of the library. There were dozens, they took up a whole shelf. And I had no idea what "abridged" meant—I didn't have any interest in the covers, I wanted to get right into the action. Every spare minute I had, anytime I wasn't training or studying, I would curl up somewhere and read. It was one of the best summers of my life.

When I figured it out, I was _furious._ I actually got in a shouting argument with the librarian—I was, I don't know, almost offended? It seemed terrible that they would offer those books to kids while keeping the real versions hidden away in the sections we could only visit with supervision. So the next time I was allowed into the adult section for a research paper, I snuck over to the fiction shelves and tucked it under my shirt. It was dishonorable, I know. But I had to find out what really happened.

I would have gotten away with it if someone hadn't caught me reading it between sparring matches. He took it away and said I was too young for such, oh, "salacious literature," or something like that. I was too embarrassed to tell him it was a library book, so I'm afraid that copy went missing from the shelves. I was going to return it, though, I swear!

But by then I was already halfway through the unabridged version and I absolutely had to get my hands on another copy. When my dad took me into town to buy school clothes, I managed to get away for a few minutes into a bookstore and buy another one.

Now here's why I have two copies: When I turned thirteen, that same person who took the book away from me gave it back, wrapped! And he said, "Now you're old enough for this." Isn't that funny? I should have returned it to the library then, but somehow it felt too special. He'd given me birthday presents before, weapons and stuff like that, but never a book.

I told you it was a long story. You have the copy I bought in the bookstore, that's why it's so dog-eared. (Mostly all the racy bits, yeah, I know.)

Now it's your turn. Tell me a story about the first time you did something against the rules?

Behemoth

P.S. Okay, you got me. I asked them what you looked like. The guy behind the counter actually _smirked_ at me. I got the feeling he thought it was a very stupid or very obvious question.

You say you value your privacy, as do I, so it's probably not a good idea to exchange selfies. I've already described myself. (Big. And brown hair, that's basically it.)

P.P.S. I’m glad you gave yourself a break from work. I’ll have to look for that bench next time I’m out running. It sounds like a very pleasant place to read.

 


	18. Chapter 18

> Subject: **This got weirdly personal.**
> 
> Fri, Sep 11 at 06:01 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth, 

Thank you for sharing that story with me, it made me laugh quite a bit and confirmed what I had inferred from our exchanges so far. You are not the type of man to settle for second best. And yes, I mean this as a compliment.

I wish I had as charming an answer to your request. I have debated whether I should tell you this story, but you did ask for the first time I broke any rules and this is it. As far as I can remember anyway. You’ll have to forgive the reminiscence but it’s necessary to explain what happened.

When I was about three years old, I was living in a small village in the north of Lucis and, as is customary, started going to school. I liked it well enough at first, but grew rather bored of it after the first couple of weeks. I did not find it particularly stimulating. When I was four, some people came to our village - I don’t really remember that part - and offered my parents to send me to Insomnia on one of those gifted programs for bright pupils set up at the Crown’s expense. Although my memories are somewhat blurred, I have a few of the small house we lived in and the rough clothes I wore back then, and I guess my parents saw it as a chance for me to have a brighter a future and couldn’t turn the offer down.

So shortly before my fifth birthday - like many, I arrived in Insomnia at a Crown-funded boarding school. The tuition there was certainly more interesting than it’d been back home, but I was alone, away from my family and I did not like it. I make myself sound like quite the contrary child here, I realise.

In any case, I decided after a week or so that I wanted to go home. However, it quickly turned out that this was not my call. I decided to go anyway; I already had a stubborn streak wider than Titan’s thigh. Yet, leaving was far from a simple endeavour. I was sleeping in a dormitory, we had a curfew, the windows all had bars and the front entrance had a double door system to ensure no stray child could get out of the building unchaperoned. During the day, we sat in a class. Opportunities to escape were non-existent, so I had to make my own.

The problem with teaching a four-year-old reading and advanced vocabulary is that he understands exactly what ‘in the event of a fire all door locks will be automatically released’ means. I wore glasses and it was easy enough to use them to light up a piece of paper I had crumbled under my shirt using little but sunlight and an open lavatory window. I extinguished it as soon as it tripped the alarm and made a run for a backdoor while everyone evacuated to the inner court. It went surprisingly smoothly but I hadn’t planned much beyond that; I didn’t know what I would find.

I had come to Insomnia by train and I thought of finding the station again but I was worried people’d be looking for me there. I knew well enough that a child alone would attract attention, so I spent the afternoon walking obediently behind an adult or another in the busy streets, switching to a new person each time they started to notice. I saw the signs for the West Gate. It sounded like freedom so I headed that way. I walked for hours. The city was so big, it was bewildering. To my young mind, I thought if I reached the gate I’d find my home again; surely the world couldn’t be that vast. Outside the city had to be where I came from, where my home was.

Eventually, I reached the West Gate at dusk. I was cold, tired, and thirsty. I nearly turned back and gave up when I saw the in-and-out checkpoints and the soldiers. They were scary and loud. But I was still stubborn; I hid and observed. It quickly became clear that vehicles were only being thoroughly searched on the way in, to exit the city little was needed but identity papers. My luck seemed to be holding and I used the deepening dark as cover to get to the slow moving line of cars and climb in the back of a van. It was full of automobile parts, grease buckets and pieces of scratchy, dirty canvas thrown haphazardly about. I concealed myself under one, tried hard not to gag at the smell and waited.

We drove for a long time, I’m not sure how long, I drifted in and out of sleep for most of it. I mostly remember how dry my mouth was. It hurt to swallow and I wondered what would happen if I ate some of the grease. But I wasn’t quite desperate enough for that yet. When the doors of the van opened, it was still night-time. The man started rummaging among the parts, looking for something. I realised there was no way he wouldn’t find me, got scared and bolted. Thankfully, we’d stopped at a well-lit, large rest area. I only managed to get a couple of hundred meters away before passing the kitchen’s back door and bumping right into the cook and the bin he was carrying. It nearly knocked me out.

I was still wearing the boarding school’s uniform; it was easy enough to figure what’d happened. They gave me food, water and a couch to sleep on. The next day, they asked a hunter to take me back to Insomnia. My mood was rather sullen. Not only had I failed, but I was fairly certain I’d managed to get myself in deep trouble.

Once we reached the city the Crownsguard escorted me back to the school. However, when we got there, something of a commotion was in progress and we were left standing in the entrance for a long while as no one seemed available to take custody of me. As it happened, one of the school’s rich patrons was visiting. He saw me on his way out and asked what I was doing here escorted by a soldier. The director started to explain but the visitor stopped him and asked me to explain instead. I did, as best I could. I thought for sure the powerful man would get mad at me for running away.

But he did not. He stayed silent for a long time and then he told me he had a son who was two years younger than me. He said he’d been trying to find a teacher for his son, ‘someone who understands planning and strategy, and yet he’s not afraid to act when necessary,' then he kneeled in front of me and asked ‘would you do it?’.

It sounds silly, doesn’t it? That he’d ask a child like me to be his son’s tutor. But I looked straight at him and I said that I would if I was allowed to chastise the kid if he was slacking off. That got me a laugh and a pat on the head. I don’t really know why I accepted so readily. It might be because that man - I didn’t really know who he was back then - talked to me, made me feel like a person rather than a number for the first time since I left home. Of course, all this was very gradual, it took years before I properly filled the role he’d offered me. But it changed my perspective on staying in Insomnia, suddenly I had a goal, a reason to be there, and it gave my life meaning and direction.

So here you are. Here’s the story of how breaking rules landed me my job.

In one of your previous letters, you asked if I had any siblings. I did not answer because the question was interlaced with issues I was not prepared to acknowledge at the time. But I feel I can address this now.

I do not know. I might do. I might have done.

A couple of years after I moved to Insomnia, my mother’s letters stopped coming. I hadn’t been home for so long, and they were not so frequent - writing was not easy for her - I barely noticed at first. When I did and asked about it, I was told the mail wasn’t working anymore. It’s much later that I looked into it and realised the letters had stopped around the time the village had been annexed by Niflheim. For the first six months, hunters managed to smuggle pieces of information out of the area, but I couldn’t find anything specific to my family, not years later anyway. Another few weeks and all communications ceased. I know nothing of what happened then.

I apologise for the tone of this letter, especially if the personal and dispiriting notes bother you. I guess I did not want to lie when you asked.

Blaze

P.S. I don’t really know how to tell you what I look like. Pretty unremarkable, I suppose. I’m slightly taller than average, not big but I keep fit. I have light brown hair and still wear glasses. That’s about it 

P.P.S. Let me know how the cooking is progressing.

 


	19. Chapter 19

> Subject: **Re: This got weirdly personal.**
> 
> Fri, Sep 11 at 6:37 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hi Blaze,

I'm at a bar with some guys from work right now, but when your email popped up I opened it and then I didn't want to wait till later to reply. I snuck off to the back patio where I'm currently wedged between a large potted palm and a can full of empty liquor bottles. At least it's quiet here.

I read your letter three times. First off, please don't apologize—on the contrary, I'm touched that you would share such a personal story; and I'm not always good at expressing myself, so I hope I don't put my foot in my mouth when responding. I'm imagining what that must have been like for you. How overwhelming. And how heartbreaking it must have been to lose your family that way.

I want to say something more but I just keep typing and deleting so I'll keep it short. Thank you for trusting me enough to share this. And thank you for the very kind compliment.

(I'm making ramen for breakfast tomorrow. I'll send photos.)

 


	20. Chapter 20

> Subject: **I hope I didn’t ruin your evening.**
> 
> Sat, Sep 12 at 7:07 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

You shouldn’t have let my badly timed reminiscences interrupt a pleasant evening. It is an old story I’ve made peace with years ago. I apologised because I doubt this was the kind of content you believed you signed up for when you answered my ad. I do appreciate your compassion though. Thank you.

Blaze.

 


	21. Chapter 21

> Subject: **You didn’t**
> 
> Sat, Sep 12 at 11:37 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hang on, I’m taking photos

 


	22. Chapter 22

> Subject: **ULTIMATE NOODLES**
> 
> Sat, Sep 12 at 11:52 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Look what I’m having for breakfast!

 

(Photo of Cup Noodles next to a bowl of broth)

 

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

 

Just kidding.

 

(Photo of traditional ramen noodles next to a bowl of broth)

 

I found these at the market, but I wasn’t sure if they were the right kind. What do you think?

P.S. Sister is gone & I have the house to myself, so I’m listening to _Hysteosria._ It’s actually pretty good! I could work out to this...

 


	23. Chapter 23

> Subject: **… well played.**
> 
> Sun, Sep 13 at 10:22 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I’m not going to lie, there was an instant I believed that cup noodle picture was genuine. My heart does not thank you for it, by the way.

The other noodles you’ve got are… let’s say, ‘acceptable’ if you have nothing better at hand, but not what I would recommend. My preference would always be to make them yourself with premium ingredients, but it is time consuming and requires a considerable amount of practice to be done well. Definitely not a beginner task, if you haven’t got much experience with dough and cooking in general. If you fancy trying it sometimes, I’d recommend you start by cutting soba rather than pulling ramen noodles. It’s still a remarkably skilful feat but somewhat more intuitive.

Do you use blades in your physical training regime? Or do you stick with martial arts or good old-fashioned brawling techniques?

In any case, there’s a little artisan with a shop right next to the Academy of Elemental Magic where you can buy the best fresh noodles I found in Insomnia. It’ll look somewhat run-down when you get there but don’t let the appearance fool you, they have quality product. I hear they even supply the royal kitchens.

The stock seems to have come out really nice from that picture. I can almost smell it, it looks gorgeous. Have you tasted it yet? What do you think? Dare say you’re not one step closer to your ultimate noodle recipe.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the music, it certainly has energy to it. Doesn’t beat coffee, but it’s a close second.

On another topic, I was wondering if you’d recommend another book to me. Maybe one that delves deeper into the characters’ relationship? As much as I enjoyed _The Red Mage of Mysidia,_ it was the part that I found both surprisingly rewarding and yet frustrating as it could have been so much more.

I had not expected to find such tales appealing. Growing up in a very adult environment, I’ve been inadvertently, yet frequently and from a young age, exposed to conversations and materials of a rather crude and tasteless nature. My reactions to those usually fall somewhere between indifference and mild disgust. My own mind has always seemed to be a better place to reflect on and explore my own desires and feelings. Yet, reading _The Red Mage_ was different, probably because the physical scenes were only the complement of something much more intimate. It existed to bring to life the affection I had for the characters and the deep connection existing between them. That’s a theme I’ve realised I wish to explore further.

It seems you have a knack for making me tell you things I would not usually admit to anyone. I can’t help but feel our exchanges might have become a bit unbalanced of late. I think you can agree I deserve to hear a personal story from you, one you’d be comfortable to share while also allowing me to understand you better. I’ll be waiting.

Blaze

 


	24. Chapter 24

> Subject: **Sorry about the heart attack**
> 
> Sun, Sep 13 at 10:33 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hey Blaze,

Are you suggesting that my swordplay skills might translate into cutting soba noodles? Sounds like a stretch, but I am pretty handy with a sword if I do say so myself. I wouldn't use it to cut noodles though. Maybe one of those wicked little sparring daggers. I haven't trained with them but they look cool.

Now as for book recommendations, you've come to the right guy. If I'm reading your email correctly, I think you might like a particular noir mystery that’s one of my favorites. I took the liberty of dropping it in the mail this afternoon (you definitely aren't going to find this one at the library). These kinds of books are usually awful—terrible prose, cardboard characters—but there are exceptions if you have the time to hunt them down.

There's a bookstore which I think from your description must be quite close to the noodle shop you mention; I'll take a look next time I'm down there. Anyway, it's one of those musty old places with books piled to the ceiling and a cat asleep in the window. It's three stories, very narrow, wedged in between a tattoo parlor and a diner. The first level is full of the kinds of books you see people reading on the subway—bright colors and big cover fonts. You would like the second level, it's all history and battle strategy, with maps pinned up everywhere (and usually another cat curled on top of an open atlas).

The third level is where it gets interesting. There's a section with weird old magic books and indexes of herbs and stuff like that. Then way in the back, behind a curtain, are books like the one I mailed you today. Modern volumes mixed in with some that are hundreds of years old, with ridiculous costumes on the cover and pages falling out because the binding is such poor quality. You have to read dozens of them to find one really good book. (Fortunately, I read fast.)

Let me know what you think of the book and I'd be happy to discuss in greater detail.

You're right; I do owe you a personal story. I think I like talking about books because it's easier than talking about myself. One of the things that really struck me from your letter was when you saw that staying or leaving wasn't a choice you were being offered. And in a way I think you must be a much braver person than I am, because you realized that and acted on it, took the choice into your own hands.

I'm also on a path that was chosen for me, in my case since before I was even born, and I haven't wavered from it once. I wouldn't want to—it's my calling, and I take it seriously. But sometimes I can't help but wonder, what if I was just the son of the curry shop owner, and I could study whatever I wanted at university—even something as frivolous as writing, you know? Or maybe there are other things I could be good at and I'll never know, because I spend all my goddamn time swinging a sword around and lecturing people about upper-body strength?

A while back, you said you brushed a nerve when you called me a typical physical trainer, and it's true. I get so tired of everyone assuming that's all I'm good for. Sometimes I even play it up, act dumber than I am, behave like they expect me to, and no one even notices. It's kind of depressing.

That wasn't a very exciting story but I've never told anyone this.

I wish I could mail you some of this broth. I still have lots left over. Drinking some now. It's _delicious._

Behemoth

 


	25. Chapter 25

> Subject: **Re: Sorry about the heart attack**
> 
> Mon, Sep 14 at 11:42 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

Of course, I did not mean that proficiency with a sword is the same as knowing how to handle yourself in a kitchen. But while they are different skill sets, the respect, complicity and precision with the blade one develops while practicing either, is - I believe - somewhat transferrable. It will take you less time to learn how to handle a kitchen knife properly if you know how to swing a dagger safely. Swords might be different, particularly heavy ones. I like light, swift weapons myself, so I stick with daggers or katanas for my practice, sometimes lances.

I don’t know what to think of you sending me a kind of book that is ‘usually awful’, but your last recommendation was very entertaining so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. You will have to tell me how to send it back to you this time though, as I doubt you have two copies of every book you own and I would be loath to deprive you of volumes you obviously love.

I think I know the bookstore you’re talking about, but I’ve never been inside. I will try and make the time when I’m next in the city centre. It sounds like an interesting place, particularly that second floor. But while my knowledge of scholarly titles is rather extensive, I will probably wait on your word to buy anything I’m less familiar with or I’d probably end up with one of those books full of cardboard characters.

And I appreciate your sympathetic words. You are very kind. Although I do not consider running away to have been particularly brave, nor smart. It was mostly stubbornness and a definite lack of understanding of the scope of what I was attempting. I have learnt to plan better in the years that have passed since. My stubborn side has stayed rather incurable, I’m afraid.

Thank you for sharing such an honest account of your feelings with me. It must be difficult at times to not feel in control of your own fate. But it is good that you embrace it as well, so you might find a way for it to bring you happiness. You certainly sound as if you enjoy your work and that you are good at it. It is all too easy though, to let work consume us. It can become the sum of who we are if we let it, it’s a dangerous slope. I wonder sometimes what would have happened… If I’d begged my parents not to go. If I’d managed to discard the uniform before running away. If I had said no to my pupil’s father. I suppose it is human nature to imagine what could have been, to second-guess our choices. It brings little solace, yet we can’t stop ourselves. So, indeed, I understand what you mean.

Facing your destiny head-on takes courage too; I do not believe for a second that this is a quality you lack. I do hope you can find peace and the opportunity to pursue other interests besides what you are meant to do. I gather from what you’re saying that it’s some kind of family business, this makes it all the more important. Do not concern yourself, I will not pry.

I regret the words I wrote before. I meant them as a barb but they were sharper than I knew and hurt deeper than I intended. I would not want to take them back though even if I could. Not because I believe them. Far from it. But because without them, I might not have learnt how wrong I was and how remarkable you are.

Blaze

 


	26. Chapter 26

> Subject: **Stubbornness is a virtue in my opinion**
> 
> Wed, Sep 16 at 1:14 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Heck, Blaze, you're making me blush here. As I'm a man who doesn't blush easily, I'm going to attribute it to a deficit of vegetables in my diet and rectify that with a large salad tomorrow instead of my usual slab of steak. (I know you'd be pleased.)

Speaking of work, how's yours? Giving yourself a break once in a while? You haven't mentioned your pupil recently. Still reluctant to learn? My students haven't been too bad, actually; the most troublesome one has been remarkably cooperative. Maybe his ill-tempered tutor stopped riding his ass so hard. (I hardly ever have occasion to talk to the guy, but when I do he always seems supremely pissed off.)

Don't worry about prying, I was being overly dramatic when I said it was my calling. Just the family business, as you say, and one that my father intends to hand down to me when he retires.

But you're trained in the fighting arts too! That's awesome. Lances look like fun. I have some experience with katanas, and great respect for anyone who wields them with skill (as I'm sure you do; I imagine you're exceptionally skillful at whatever you choose to master).

When you're done with the book, visit that shop I told you about. It's called Daguerreo, big letters on the awning, you can't miss it. They know me there. (I spend an embarrassing percentage of my salary on books.) Tell them it’s for Behemoth and they'll hold it for me under the counter until the next time I stop by. And definitely check out the second floor. I'm sure you have access to an excellent library but they have some very unusual volumes you won't find elsewhere.

How did it get so late? I spent a long time writing this email. Better wrap it up and hit send.

Seriously, though, thanks. What you said meant a lot to me. I won't forget it.

How about happier stories now? What's your favorite memory?

Going to be mainlining coffee tomorrow,

Behemoth

 


	27. Chapter 27

 

> Subject: **This might be highly boring, but you have to bear some of the blame. You asked me to talk about work.**
> 
> Wed, Sep 16 at 8:08 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I meant every word. Candour in these matters is preferable, I believe. It’s a good cement for trust.

And well, if you wish me to talk about my work, I shall oblige. Be warned though, it’s hardly an entertaining subject. My job encompasses two distinct roles. One is to be a tutor as I explained, the other is to act as a secretary for the board of the family’s company. This is important as part of what I have to teach my student is all he’ll need to know to take over the family business one day. I suppose, in this way, your situations are fairly similar. My pupil too is set to inherit his family’s business and has not been given a choice in the matter. In his case, the company is very important and many people’s livelihood and happiness depend on him doing a good job once he’ll be in charge. Hence why I have to be firm with him and demand that he applies himself to his studies.

I have to admit your account of your own situation and the doubts you sometimes feel about your heritage has given me a new perspective and a lot of food for thought regarding my pupil’s own circumstances. Until now, I did not see the point of discussing what could not be, I believed bringing attention to the shackles of fate would be damaging and counterproductive. I’m starting to wonder if maybe I was wrong. If you’re having those thoughts, he probably does as well and I ought to address his concerns rather than skirt around them. I will need to find the right time for a candid conversation on the topic. This can be harder than it sounds. I’m afraid my student is often moody and sullen these days, but I can hardly blame him.

You see, we’ve received concerning news about a competitor. We do not know yet what might happen, but we have enough information to be certain that should they initiate a hostile takeover, the family company would struggle to withstand the attack. Of course, this is not something I can hide from my pupil and - despite, or maybe because, the tense relationship he has with his father - you can imagine how upset and worried he is. In truth, we all are. But there’s no point speculating at this stage, we must prepare as best we can and wait for our adversary to make its move if it decides to. I had to cut some slack to my pupil though considering all he’s dealing with at the moment.

I suppose this is a good place to tell you about that favourite memory you asked for. When I accepted to tutor my student, I quickly decided that, while my role demanded I spurred him on in the right direction, sometimes harshly, I would always be his ally. I guess although our circumstances were very different, I had a lot of empathy for the difficulties he faced. While I used to be alone in a gigantic city with no one I knew or who would care for me, he was lost among his father’s business partners with no one his own age to talk to or play with. And so, although I am officially but an employee of the company, I consider myself to be his retainer before anyone else’s, including his father.

But while this was my wish from the start, turning it into a reality was a rather daunting task. When I started interacting with my student, I was very young and inexperienced. Predictably, he saw me as a spy sent by his father to boss him around and ruin his fun. It took a lot of time and patience to break down those walls, to build mutual trust and respect. We still don’t always see eye to eye, but our relationship is strong enough to weather it all. Even when he lashes out or purposely undermine my teachings, he usually apologises for it later.

Anyway, about six months after I started working for - or rather with - him a couple of times a week, I finished a lesson. I remember it was on the Great War of Old, specifically the clues we have left that it truly happened, or at least a certain version of it.

I was tidying my teaching materials and putting them away, when he came behind me and pulled on my sleeve. He didn’t use my name but a nickname I’d never heard before; yet, it clearly referred to me. So I asked how I could help him and he said: ‘I’ll show you a secret but you can’t tell anyone.’ I promised. As I mentioned, I had already decided where my allegiance lay. I might have broken my oath if whatever he’d revealed had been a danger to himself I could not deal with on my own, but that situation seemed unlikely coming from an eleven-year-old. Anyway, he took me to the garden and moved a loose stone in the wall. He’d hidden there a collection of marbles he’d won at school. He was worried it’d be considered an inappropriate pastime by the family and they’d been taken from him. I looked suitably impressed, and he laughed. He was so proud of his treasure. He said I could have one, any I wanted, so I took a beautiful one with blue-green metallic hues and I thanked him. He looked happier than I’d ever seen him.

It might seem like a small event, but for me that moment was priceless. He’d shared a secret with me, something he hadn’t told anyone else. He trusted me. In that moment, I truly became the person I wanted to be for him. As much as I like to complain about him (and sweet Shiva, does he give me reasons to), I have absolute confidence in the man he is slowly becoming. And my faith in him is proven right every day. You’re going to think I’m a sentimental idiot, but the next day I took that marble to a jeweller. I got them to carve a pendant out of it, spent a month salary on the thing. I still wear it. I have no idea if my student even knows what that pendant is, but it matters little. He still tells me things he doesn’t or can’t tell anyone else, that’s all that matters. Reading all this, there’s no denying I found my calling too.

Your turn then. What’s your favourite memory?

On a side note, I do not believe I have fully mastered lances (I’m getting pretty close with paired daggers), so I better run to my daily training session and try to be worthy of your praises.

Blaze

P.S. I’ll bring the book to the shop as requested once I’ve read it. Thank you again for sending it.

 


	28. Chapter 28

> Subject: **You couldn't bore me if you tried**
> 
> Fri, Sep 18 at 12:29 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

It makes it worthwhile, doesn't it? What we were talking about before, the second-guessing and what-ifs. Moments like those, with your pupil. When they _surprise_ you. And then you're certain that you're on the right path; the question is only where it will take you…

Since I read your email last night, I've been thinking about what you said about the shackles of fate, and about discussing them with your student. Why doesn't anyone ever talk about that? Some of my students are in a similar position. You'd think I'd be sympathetic, and instead I'm harder on them, push them to accomplish more. Why hasn't it ever occurred to me that we share burdens that are remarkably alike in many ways? But as you say, there is a great deal of expectation riding on their shoulders, and it's my job to make them strong enough to bear it.

I certainly don't remember anyone talking to me about the responsibilities I was expected to fulfill. There was no formal conversation, never a solemn oath or anything like that. As long as I can remember, I knew exactly who I was expected to become and what my duties would be.

I find, oddly, as I try to recall a favorite memory, that like yours it fits within this conversation we're having about our work. What did you say a few emails ago about letting work consume us, become the sum of who we are? I suspect you and I are both more guilty of this than we would like to admit. (And of course I don’t think you're a sentimental idiot; I very much enjoyed your story. Your student is lucky to have you a mentor. I hope I have the opportunity to see that pendant someday.)

So, my favorite memory. The first time my father took me on a camping trip. Have you ever been outside the Wall? Oh, of course you have, when you came to Insomnia. And you were from a village, so it must not have seemed extraordinary. I grew up here, so the first time I saw the open world, it was like a slap of cold water—fresh, startling, utterly exhilarating.

And it was also very unusual to be alone with my father. We took his car, just the two of us. I was eight years old; my mother stayed home with the baby. Everything looks different outside Insomnia, even the stars—brighter than you knew they could be, breathtaking, when you're that far from the city lights. We set up our tent at a haven in the middle of the desert, sand and rock stretching in all directions as far as I could see. We cooked packaged noodles, which was a rare treat for me then. And after we ate my father talked in a way he never had before, not about my duties, but about his. I see now that he was preparing me for my role, but at the time I was simply grateful to be receiving so much of his undivided attention.

We have never been close, my father and I. When I was a child he was rarely home, and when he was, it was rather like being visited by an important person with whom I must be on my best behavior. I was close to my mother. She died when I was ten years old. It was quite unexpected. Of course we had plenty of servants to take care of my sister, who was still very young, but I ended up being a bit of a surrogate parent to her. My father works long hours, and he isn't the nurturing type. I say that with the greatest respect for him; he is incomparable at what he does. But he doesn't have time to, you know, make Altissian toast.

Whew. I said I didn’t like talking about myself, and here you have me going on and on. Now you’re the one impelling me to share memories I usually keep private. What is it about you that makes me want to lay my soul bare?

This seems to have become another late evening. It's your terrible influence, Blaze—you're turning me into a creature of the night like yourself. The rain has been falling steadily since sundown. Are you out there somewhere on a roof, I wonder? I can see most of the city skyline from my window. Perhaps if it weren't so dark I would be able to see you.

By starlight,

Behemoth

 


	29. Chapter 29

 

 

(A handwritten note that reads, "Hi, Blaze—Don't judge this book by the cover. I know it looks trashy, but the writing is top notch. I adore Chivany—a complex character who applies his brilliant mind not only to solving the mystery, but to exploring his desires, as you said in your email—which is why I thought you might like this. B.")

 

 

 

(These are the front and back covers of a book titled _Triple Threat,_ by Leon Kain. The front cover has an image of two men and says, "He never knew what he wanted—until he came to Altissia and learned that one plus one plus equals danger… and desire." The back cover has an image of woman in profile and identifies the printer as Clouds Eye Press, priced at 130 gil and labeled Fiction/Poly/Erotica. The text reads:

Words say things bodies can't. A book like this is better than sex. —The World Wanderer Monthly

Based on a true story that rocked the world of the Altissian haute bourgeoisie, Triple Threat tells the riveting story of Chivany Cole, a private investigator whose routine is forever shattered by an erotic epiphany—the appearance of Cornelia and Marcus, a pair of lovers who hire him to dispel the mystery shrouding the disappearance of a case of jewels… but all is not as it seems, and Chivany quickly finds himself falling into bed with his alluring clients. This masterful noir romance is a page-turning romp about the pursuit of love, true happiness, and sexual fulfillment in the seamy underbelly of Altissia.

Now this is what I call great literature! —Cecil Harvey)

 


	30. Chapter 30

> Subject: **It’s not really what I had in mind, but I can’t say I’m sorry about it.**
> 
> Sat, Sep 19 at 3:11 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

Thank you for sharing that favourite memory of yours. I can easily imagine what a special moment it must have been for you sharing that evening with your father, and discovering the staggering size of our Eos. I seldom have the opportunity to go outside the walls, and I miss it. There’s a sense of freedom out there one cannot find in the middle of the city. It also brings to my mind strange musings about our role in the immense scheme of the world and the gods. We’re not much, all things considered, and yet what’s this world but the sum of negligeable life?

I’m glad you, at least, remember how important it is to take the time to make Altissian toast for your sister. She’s lucky to have you. You’re a good man, Behemoth.

I went to pick up your book this morning and I thought I’d start it during my lunch break.

Wait. Let me rephrase.

I thought I’d take a lunch break in order to start the book (who’s a terrible influence, now?). I didn’t make it very far. The opening scene under the bridge was racy enough, but then a few pages later, Chivany was ‘paying’ his passage to Altissia in that old boat shack and I had to admit the truth. This was not a story I could read at work.

I picked it up again after dinner. I was expecting something more cerebral and I was worried for a while that the crudeness of the execution would put me off. But I should have known better than to doubt your instincts. You seem to guess what I’d enjoy effortlessly. How do you do it?

I might have a bit of a crush on Cornelia. She’s so determined and her instincts are impeccable, both in and out of bed. It would have been too easy in that triangle of attraction to fall into common distasteful tropes and make the female character weak and forgettable, but the book steers well clear of that pitfall.

And that scene towards the end when they’ve finally recovered the jewels and she’s laying naked against all those pillows while Marcus and Chivany set the diamonds on her skin, to underline her breasts, her curves. What a lovely mental image.

You were right about the writing; it serves the style of the story well. I particularly admire the balance the author achieves between the three main characters, despite Cornelia’s strong personality, there are enough intimate moments between Marcus and Chivany to highlight that side of the triangle.

That part where they’re stuck in the minister’s closet, when Marcus just falls to his knees and Chivany has to keep quiet to not be heard from the other side of the door. It was both hot and hilarious. And Astrals, did he make him pay for it later.

Tell me then, what’s your favourite scene? And why?

It got late as I was reading. You’re probably already asleep despite your recent forays into the night realm. Thank you for sending the book. It’s a rather engrossing story, as you well know, but I should resist the urge to read it again. I’m working all weekend, so shower and bed are in order.

Blaze

P.S. I was actually stuck in a late company meeting the other night when it was raining. I did look out of the window and wondered if you were watching it too. I guess the weather is not necessarily as boring a topic as people like to make it sound. It’s almost a tangible connection for us now.

 

 


	31. Chapter 31

> Subject: **Chivany is definitely NSFW**
> 
> Sat, Sep 19 at 5:38 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Oh that's easy, the restaurant scene with the Count. Chivany nonchalantly eating olives, his foot in the poor man’s lap, firing questions at him. Flicking his tongue out to touch the rim of his glass while the Count squirms. Probably not an effective interrogation technique in real life, but hot as hell.

Why? Huh, that's a harder question. I mean, I don't think I’d actually want to be in that position—imagine trying to keep your face straight with all of Altissian high society watching. Delicious torment.

Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Sorry, I should have warned you not to read it at work. It sounds like between Chivany’s lovers, you preferred Cornelia?

The rain has finally stopped so it won't be a lazy Saturday for me. Heading outside to work up a good sweat.

 


	32. Chapter 32

> Subject: **You can say that again.**
> 
> Sun, Sep 20 at 9:34 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

It was certainly an interesting scene, the one with the Count. I can’t help but notice you didn’t give a true answer to my ‘why’. Deflecting much? Is it the public display? The risk of getting caught? The forbidden undertones? You leave me to speculate at your own risk.

And well, I do find Cornelia interesting as a character, but I guess I enjoy the whole situation, this amorous triangle works well. It’s really the relationships between the characters that make me feel invested and possibly also wake my interest. As I mentioned in my previous letter, the author has achieved such great depth and balance in his description of their feelings for each other, so complex and intricate, it compliments the physical parts admirably.

I have to cut this short. My work was disturbed today by the preparations of tomorrow’s festival and I’ve had to bring back most of my files to my room. I have much reading to do and it won’t be nearly as pleasant as what you sent me. I better get some coffee and prepare for a short night. I hope you enjoyed your work-out.

Blaze

 


	33. Chapter 33

> Subject: **I am rather bored.**
> 
> Mon, Sep 21 at 10:34 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

Why do those banquets have to take so long? I know the Moon Festival is important. It’s all about rebirth and prosperity and the Astrals know our company could use some good luck right now, but does it need to last hours?

I’ve been sitting at this table since the sun went down. The conversation was never stellar, but it has now died out in favour of the guests ignoring each other and doing little other than drink. The guy across the table from me must have downed two bottles of wine by himself at least. I hope they bring dessert out soon, mostly because it’ll mean we’ll be one step closer to the end but also because they usually bring coffee with it. I could kill for a cup right now. I’ve spent the evening reading your emails on my phone, in a way they’re better company. Still, I wish you were here, I know you would keep me entertained.

I hope you’re having a better time than I am.

Blaze

_Sent from my Eosphone._

 


	34. Chapter 34

> Subject: **Tell me about it**
> 
> Mon, Sep 21 at 11:51 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Ugh, Moon Festival, the most boring night of the year. Call me cynical but I think the crops would get along just fine without all the chanting and incense. I had to hang out with a bunch of people from work. Everyone spent the whole time staring at their phones, the guy across from me never looked up once. It was incredibly stuffy and formal and I drank too much. I couldn't wait to get back to my room and email you. This is going to sound stupid but are you into girls or guys or both? I probably shouldn't send this but I've been wanting to ask and, well, I'm just kinda curious because maybe I have a little crush on you. Fuck okay hitting send before I talk myself out of it.

 


	35. Chapter 35

> Subject: **Someone should have taken my phone away after that first bottle of wine**
> 
> Tue, Sep 22 at 6:42 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

I woke up this morning and remembered what I wrote to you last night and I felt like a fucking idiot. Blaze, I’m sorry. I was a little drunk. Okay, more than a little. And when I checked my phone and saw you hadn't written back I was almost relieved (because you could have said you were horrified and offended) but then I felt awful (because maybe you were, and that's why you didn't answer).

Forgive me? Your emails are the best part of my day. I hope this doesn't fuck up our friendship. I’ve been meaning to tell you but I shouldn't have done it in such a stupid, awkward, embarrassing way. You deserve better than that.

 


	36. Chapter 36

> Subject: **Allow me to be candid once more.**
> 
> Wed, Sep 23 at 2:35 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I am neither horrified nor offended. If anything, I am flattered that you feel this way. I would lie, however, if I didn’t admit to being confused by the matter.

I can try to answer your question. The truth is I’ve never really thought about my attraction to others in those terms. I mostly want to find someone I can trust and be comfortable with, someone who I’d naturally want to share new experiences with, someone who would not take advantage. I have a rather undefined vision of who that someone may be. So I suppose ‘both’ would be the answer you seek.

I can’t say I’ve ever found the type of person I’m looking for though.

A few months ago, I was rather frustrated with my loneliness, particularly the physical aspect of it. I wanted to explore my desires and look for new physical experiences I couldn’t realise on my own; I'd just turned eighteen, I felt it was more than time for it. So I thought that maybe the idea of finding this ideal person for it was just an excuse, maybe I was just too cowardly, maybe I was naive and idealistic, and I just had to stop being so damn difficult.

I had what you could call a ‘fling’ with one of the young hunters from that shop you went to. Well, I’m not sure what happened even deserves that name. I couldn’t go through with it. With any of it. He took my hand once, took off my glove, and that was already too much, that simple skin to skin contact. I disliked it immediately. Yet, I put up with it, I thought if I forced myself to go through with it, I could get used to this, it would get better. But then he tried to kiss me. And I ran away. Like a child. Like an idiot.

But I couldn’t shake it. How wrong it’d felt.

I thought that maybe there was something amiss with me at that point. Everybody else seems to go through these motions so easily, even with total strangers. But now, I wonder… if maybe, it felt wrong because it was, because that person wasn’t right for me.

I haven’t thought about it clearly and I don’t know what to believe… But I know that thinking of you, you feel more right than anyone has ever done.

I can’t say any more, however. I will have to ask for your patience for now. Keep writing if you don’t mind. I will give this some thought.

Blaze

 


	37. Chapter 37

> Subject: **Re: Allow me to be candid once more.**
> 
> Wed, Sep 23 at 9:48 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hi Blaze,

I have to admit, when I opened your email, I was expecting to feel either thrilled or disappointed. I definitely wasn't expecting to feel confused.

That's okay though. I owe you an apology for putting you on the spot like that. And you certainly don’t owe me an explanation—so it was very generous of you to give one.

There's nothing wrong with being idealistic. Loneliness and frustration are awful (don't I know) but still they must be preferable to a kiss that you recoil from. Even a kiss that just bores you. You don't have to settle for boredom, Blaze. There must be someone out there who can kiss you and make shivers run down your skin.

I won't bring it up again. Take all the time you need.

But I must confess that when you described taking off your glove… it did things to me. Just imagining the bare underside of your wrist.

And that's enough of that. Let's see, what else can I tell you? Everyone was moping around here yesterday after the festival with hangovers (me included, but the afternoon fruit smoothie helped). There's still confetti everywhere, I keep finding it stuck in my hair. We'll be eating leftover garula buns for days.

Can you recommend another book for me? I'm still working my way through Queen Beza's discourses but I wondered if there's a book you like that isn't quite so academic—a book that means something to you personally.

I almost put some of your rare spices on a bowl of microwave popcorn last night but I decided you probably wouldn't approve.

Well, take care,

Behemoth

 


	38. Chapter 38

> Subject: **Thank you.**
> 
> Thu, Sep 24 at 8:51 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I would like to apologise for acting in such a confusing manner. I wish my thoughts were clearer. Thank you for putting up with me. I guess I never expected anything like this to happen when I placed this ad and I’m still surprised - but not regretful - that it did.

I will need time to think about this; but confession for confession, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to keep talking about how you feel. I… what I feel in return, this is what I must understand before I can give you a proper answer. And feel I do. I see the images your words evoke and they hardly leave me unbothered. Just… don’t ask me to elaborate at this point. I don’t want to promise more than I might be able or willing to give. I have an overly rational mind, it can be a curse at times.

I have to get back to work. This has all been very distracting. I haven’t minded as much as I’d have thought though.

Book-wise… there’s one that came out about ten years ago called _The Lost Savours of Eos._ It might sound like a cookbook, but while it does contain some recipes, it’s much more. You see, the slow spread of the Starscourge has gradually rendered some areas of Eos much harder to access and some ingredients almost impossible to acquire. As a result, traditional recipes and sometimes whole cooking practices have been lost. It might seem like a detail compared to the human cost of the scourge; but for one passionate about the culinary arts, it is not unimportant. The author - Retta Kelion - is a cook but she’s also an amazing force of nature, a true adventurer. The book is her journal of thirty years travelling around Eos - she even went to Niflheim before they fully closed the borders - to learn about little known ingredients and forgotten recipes. But doing so, she had to fight monsters, escape border patrols, go mountaineering on six-hundred-year-old trails, gain the trust of closed-off communities. It is a fascinating read. I think you might enjoy it. It’s become rather important to me over the years, almost a fantasy of sorts, of what could have been in another - less troubled - time.

Let me know if you feel like giving it a try and I’ll put it with your copy of _Triple Threat_ when I drop it at the bookshop.

And I sent you those spices, so you’d experiment with them. Please try one or two - not all of them - in your popcorn next time. It sounds like a good way of familiarising yourself with their flavours and getting more adventurous. Cooking - as many other things in life - can benefit from a dash of spontaneity and boldness.

I will be awaiting your next email - impatiently, as always.

Blaze

 


	39. Chapter 39

> Subject: **It dyed my tongue red though??**
> 
> Fri, Sep 25 at 8:24 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

That's it. We have to stop apologizing back and forth like this or it could go on forever. I'll put an end to it by telling you that I'm not at all sorry I responded to your cryptic classified ad in _Insomnia Daily_ a few weeks ago; nor am I sorry that I got bored, drunk, and confessional at the Moon Festival. And I'm definitely not sorry that you told me to keep talking—I will. But you have to promise that you’ll tell me if I say anything that makes you uncomfortable. Deal?

I tried the smoked ground chile pepper on my popcorn tonight. I'm glad you labeled all the packets so carefully in your spiky handwriting or I would probably have mixed it up with the paprika. Seeing your handwriting in my kitchen cabinet makes my stomach flip a little, every time. I know I'm being ridiculous and I can't help it. Have you ever had a crush on someone—not like Cornelia—a real crush? It's equal parts agonizing and exhilarating. Agonizing because your whole body is strung tight with tension, you can't think of anything else, you can't concentrate on work, you’re vibrating with adrenaline. Exhilarating for all the same reasons. It's irrational, but I don't have a mind like yours, Blaze, I can't help myself. My sister asked me why I’m walking around with a big stupid grin. I didn't tell her but I let her share my popcorn. (She said it was delicious.)

Hell yeah I want to read that book, it sounds awesome. Tell me when you’ve dropped it off and I’ll swing by the store. You sure you're ready to let _Triple Threat_ go? Don't want to read about Cornelia and the jewels a few more times? (Am I jealous of a fictional character? Maybe just a little. I know you're laughing at me now, I can't blame you.)

Anyway I can't moon around the kitchen all night so I'm going to go do pushups until I collapse.

Later,

Behemoth

 


	40. Chapter 40

> Subject: **I really wondered what you were talking about for a second.**
> 
> Sat, Sep 26 at 2:22 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I’ll agree to your deal as long as you consider it binding for yourself as well. I won’t expect any less of you than you expect of me. And I feel I could end up saying many things that might make you uncomfortable.

I can’t say I’ve ever had a crush in the way you describe. Or anything I would myself qualify as such. Right now, I find all this interesting, yet puzzling. The more I strive to understand it the less it all seems to make sense.

How do you part genuine feelings from outright fantasies? How do you feel such strong emotions while considering physical attributes that you’ve never witnessed?

Is it frustrating for you to not know what I look like? Or are you worried your feelings might change if you did? Isn’t physical attraction an important part of desire for most? How can you believe that those feelings are little else but hormonally-fuelled delusions when you know so little about me?

And yet… I throw those questions at you, but I’m hardly any better. Last night, the moon was still full and bright silver light poured through the curtains I’d left open. As I was lying in bed waiting for sleep to come, I couldn’t help but stare at my wrists and think of what you said. I never thought of this part of my body as attractive or erotic - until now it had nothing special to it, but those words of yours wouldn’t get out of my head.

How easily my mind drifted. To your hand closing around my skin. Your lips brushing there. I can’t understand it. Why suddenly I had that image of your fingers - that I’ve never seen - lacing with mine, and our joint hands pushing deep into the mattress for leverage… How can I picture all this when you’ve only ever been words on a screen? How can it be so vivid and yet be nothing more than luscious reverie?

But I can’t deny that it only happens when I think of you. I tried last night to figure out what I would do if someone else took my hand like this, with the same care, the same gentleness I imagine you would. The answer was obvious. I’d push them away, hit them if they didn’t let go. I would hate that entitlement in their gesture, that simple yet invasive contact. But not with you. Why is this? Because of a correspondence of a few weeks? Of a few suggestive words on your part? Am I this easy to influence? this desperate for any promise of interaction? or is there more to it… something else I fail to understand.

You’re the cause of all this, I have no doubt about it. But I am unsure how real these emotions truly are, how much I’m prepared to risk for what might very well be little else but sympathy entwined with sexual frustration.

I was thinking about that scene with Cornelia and the jewels, about why I like it so much. I guess I enjoyed seeing her always so strong and determined allowing herself to relax and be cared for, for a while. She more than deserves it by that point of the story. And the purity of Marcus and Chivany’s love is staggering, how they want nothing else but be there for her. It’s beautiful. Yet, I dislike that I enjoy it. How twisted is that? I know she doesn’t need that attention, she’s strong enough to live without it. I know I don’t need it either, so why do I still find myself wishing for that kind of connection? Somewhere deep in thoughts I loathe to acknowledge, thoughts that can’t help but feel weak and guilt-ridden.

I will send you the books next time I go into town. It might be a few days though.

I won’t apologise for tonight’s rambling, since we agreed we were putting a halt to it. I only hope it doesn’t come across as muddled as I fear it does. But I cannot read this letter again or I’ll never send it.

Blaze

P.S. Glad to hear you enjoyed the spiced-up popcorn with your sister. Try the smoked paprika next time.

 


	41. Chapter 41

> Subject: **I like the idea of you thinking about my tongue**
> 
> Sun, Sep 27 at 12:16 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

It's beautiful to watch your mind go direct and unswerving to the difficult questions.

Really, I'm just as confused as you are. I've never done anything like this before. I mean I've had physical experiences of course—here and there—but they were almost the opposite of this: voiceless, unspoken, something that happens between boys in a locker room or a tent and doesn't need to be discussed, just enjoyed. You might remember that in my first letter to you, I said I don't meet many people my age. I guess you could say I have a fairly limited social circle—not by choice but by circumstance. And I've made it a rule not to date people I work with. Too much potential for disaster.

It is a risk. I don't think there's any way around that. I suppose, like any risk, it must be weighed. We spend so much of our time working, you and I, attending to the needs of other people, subduing our own desires. How much are we willing to risk for a mere possibility of happiness? Sympathy entwined with sexual frustration, what a clear-eyed and discouraging way of putting it. There's more though, you're leaving out the other parts—admiration, playfulness, caring. Would you risk weakness if the reward were being able to relax, finally, in the embrace of someone you trust? I'm not trying to convince you of anything, I'm not sure of my own answer. But I do know that just because you're strong enough to live without something doesn't mean you have to.

Is it frustrating, not knowing what you look like? I started to say yes and then was surprised to discover, on further thought, that it isn't actually true. You have a very distinct voice, Blaze. You've talked yourself into an almost tangible presence in my head. From the spare description you gave, I can imagine you looking any number of ways, but none of them seem to matter particularly. Are you worried I'll find you plain and ordinary? I don't think I could, not after conversations like these, because I know that nothing about you is unremarkable.

Words are powerful. I never realized how powerful they are until now. How could a few brief sentences describing you in bed—just typing it is making my heart race again—how could a few small words, _your fingers lacing with mine,_ make the breath catch in my throat? Is that a fantasy? I don't think it is. You're a real person, out there somewhere in this vast city; you're as real as I am. I might even have passed you on the street once or twice.

_It only happens when I think of you._ Now those are words to take to bed with me. I've lingered over this letter far too long and I have an early training drill tomorrow.

In reverie,

Behemoth

P.S. I'm curious. What sorts of things do you think you might say that would make me uncomfortable? (Maybe I'm a little twisted too. The thought is strangely appealing.)

 


	42. Chapter 42

> Subject: **Trust me, that’s not all I think about.**
> 
> Sun, Sep 27 at 2:22 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

You have a gift for argumentation, haven’t you? Probably a product of all that reading you do, combined with a bright mind. I hear all you’re saying and your words are very kind.

I feel I owe you a stark warning though.

Even if all you say is true, even if it is worth the risk, would you still go through with it if I told you that no matter how beautiful a story this could become, no matter how strong the feelings we could develop, they would never be my foremost priority?

My duty is an oath I take very seriously. I wouldn’t accept my personal life coming in the way of it. No matter how dear and intimate our connection grows, other considerations would always be my first concern. How can I give you a positive answer when this is the case? How can I tell you I want to believe in what we're dreaming of here and yet in the same breath tell you it can never be more important than my work, than my loyalty to the family I serve? It hardly seems like a fair bargain and I would not expect you to think it acceptable. It is, however, the only truth I can offer you.

And no, I have no qualms about my own appearance. It is what it is. As I mentioned, I make sure to keep fit. I also cultivate a certain sense of decorum and elegance out of respect for my position. Beyond that it is hardly worth mentioning. I do worry, however, that you would have a more defined mental image of what you think I would look like than you realise and that seeing me in person would break whatever spell you believe yourself under. If we are both emotionally invested by that point, it could lead to unnecessary heartbreak. And yet, until we decide how far we are prepared to take this, together and individually, I do not feel I can share any more.

But I suppose I might be unfair to you, because I do not concern myself with what you might actually look like either, so maybe I should not dwell on this.

Physicality is both attractive and uneasy to me. It might be why I have a hard time letting this go. I cannot deny that in my case the idea of moving from a spiritual to a physical relationship is rather fraught to say the least.

As to how I might make you uncomfortable… It seems I’ve already done so at least once. Most people are content with talking heartedly about feelings and desires; yet, I cannot help but want to take this a step further. Remember what I said about having a rational mind and it being a curse? While I appreciate the honesty when you admit to your likes and dislikes, I still feel it’s not enough. Not only do I want to know all you appreciate or find distasteful, I also want to know why. I want to understand you. I want to delve deeper into who you are than you might be prepared for.

Remember that scene with the Count in _Triple Threat,_ how I asked you why you liked it? How you deflected and didn’t answer?

I understand that I push too far and that it might be unsettling to answer the questions I throw at you. I realise how perfervid I can seem, how I might ask more than you would want to share. I’m afraid, however, that this is a part of who I am. And the more I care about someone, the more I want to understand them. Truly understand them. Not just their tastes and inclinations, but what guides those, what makes this person who they are deep in the recesses of their mind, their qualities and struggles, their weaknesses and unspoken desires… It’s a lot to demand from someone and I would not blame you if you felt it was more than you could give. If this is the case, we’d be better off realising this now and cutting this fantasy short, since I cannot bring myself to trust what I cannot understand.

This letter probably turned more serious than you hoped. But I’ll stop myself from apologising again.

How long is your hair? I think I was dreaming last night, of twisting my fingers in it, holding you close. It was a strange feeling, being connected to you in that dream in a way I’ve seldom experienced while awake. Maybe it’s rather unprincipled to mention this now, after saying all I’ve said, but I can also be impulsive and contrary. And, fair or not, I wanted you to know about it.

Work is quite unforgiving at the moment, but I should manage to go into town some time within the next couple of weeks and drop the books at the shop. Your letters mean more to me now than _Triple Threat_ ever could, despite how enjoyable a read it definitely was.

Blaze

 


	43. Chapter 43

> Subject: **Go on**
> 
> Sun, Sep 27 at 11:38 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Well, I asked for it, didn't I? Talking with you is sometimes like being frozen in a floodlight. It's an exceedingly odd sensation. Normally in conversations I'm staring down at the top of someone's head. With you it's like being in the coils of a midgardsormr while it cocks an eye and politely inspects me.

(I just compared you to a monster, didn't I? So much for romantic metaphors. I'm clearly meant for brawling, not writing.)

And yet I can't deny that I enjoy it. If I have a gift for argumentation, then you have a gift for interrogation.

I thought our exchange about Chivany and the Count was enough emails ago that you'd forgotten, but you don't forget anything, do you? And you're usually so sharp too, but you made three guesses in that email, all of them wrong. It's not about being in public, or getting caught, or the forbidden undertones. It's a game we're playing, and you're winning.

What you might not know about me, Blaze, is that I'm exceptionally good at what I do. I'm not accustomed to losing. And when you get the upper hand on me—you and your brilliant mind, always outmaneuvering any argument I throw your way—it's fucking hot.

There, is that bare enough for you? Want more? I accept your challenge, I expose my (metaphorical) neck to you. Dig in.

You really love your job, don't you? I would have waited, but I suppose now's as good a time as any to have this discussion. I'm a bit startled actually because—well, remember how I told you I'll inherit the family business? It means I can't ever run off to Tenebrae and hang out in cafes writing poetry, as appealing as that sounds some days. I will always remain here, within the Wall; and that's nonnegotiable. What you said about your duty being an unbreakable oath is rather similar to how I would have phrased it. I suppose we have more in common than we realized.

Behemoth

P.S. Ask me about my hair again in a few weeks.

 


	44. Chapter 44

> Subject: **I might need you to elaborate on that.**
> 
> Mon, Sep 28 at 3:21 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

A game? I’m not sure I understand what you mean by that. Regardless of who’s winning. Is that truly what you think this is?

Blaze

 


	45. Chapter 45

> Subject: **Too bare, then**
> 
> Mon, Sep 28 at 3:36 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

It was a clumsy metaphor. Sorry.

 


	46. Chapter 46

> Subject: **Re: Too bare, then**
> 
> Mon, Sep 28 at 3:57 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

I wasn’t asking for an apology, I was asking for an explanation. As I mentioned, I aim to understand.

 


	47. Chapter 47

> Subject: **???**
> 
> Mon, Sep 28 at 4:22 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Well, I don't understand what you mean. Are you seriously suggesting that I just spent the past month writing to you every single day on a _lark?_ It was a stupid, cliched metaphor and I'm embarrassed that I used it. Did you think I was actually implying that this doesn't mean anything? All the letters I've written and that's what you got out of it? Fuck, if that's true then I'm worse at expressing myself than I thought.

 


	48. Chapter 48

> Subject: **Maybe not bare enough.**
> 
> Tue, Sep 29 at 3:25 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

Trust does not come to me easily. As versed as I am in the art of strategy, conversation is another matter. I second-guess a lot of what is said to me, a bad habit maybe but a useful one. People rarely say what they mean. Life has taught me this in some rather unpleasant ways.

I never wanted to imply that our correspondence wasn’t important to you. But I could not hide how vulnerable and small the idea that it might all have been a game made me feel. Maybe to you this idea is insulting. To me, who struggles to understand what I feel for you - and I guess what you kindly said you felt for me - it was a nauseating prospect, yet one I could not dismiss outright. Confusion makes for poor judgement, yet blind trust is more dangerous.

I don’t know what I wanted from you. Reassurance, maybe. I forced your hand there, getting you to express things you wanted to leave unsaid, demanding you explain yourself beyond what you were prepared for. It’s no surprise that you lashed out at me when I still didn’t consider it enough.

In the end, I brought this on myself. As always. It seems I can do everything right, except building meaningful human connections. Everyone needs a flaw. The Astrals were particularly cruel the day they bestowed such a bitter one upon me.

So I’m sorry. I wish I could read situations better, I could lighten up when needed. I only know I fear to lose what’s important to me because I choose it so carefully and I keep it so close. I’m sorry I’m so unskilled at nurturing relationships. I’m sorry I pushed so much.

If this is farewell, then thank you for each and every one of the letters you sent. They’ll make for lovely memories.

Blaze

 


	49. Chapter 49

> Subject: **Definitely not enough, Blaze please don’t delete this before reading**
> 
> Tue, Sep 29 at 6:13 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Blaze, no, I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. At least you're brave enough to come right out and say it made you feel vulnerable. I felt the same way, I felt like I opened up and you slapped me for it, but instead of telling you so (and you even asked!) I just snarled at you. And now I've hurt you and made you distrust me.

I promise you, this isn't a game to me in any way. I was trying to flirt with you and I chose words that had the opposite effect. It's not your fault for reacting to them, but it is my fault for meeting your simple request with hostility instead of reassurance. Can you forgive me? And I understand if you can't. Maybe you shouldn’t. I’m a hot-headed, arrogant jerk and I don’t deserve someone like you.

From now on I'll say what I mean, I swear. Even if it's embarrassing and difficult.

When I picture you writing this all alone at 3am I could kick myself.

None of those terrible things you said about yourself are true.

You’re important to me.

Behemoth

 


	50. Chapter 50

> Subject: **I wouldn’t.**
> 
> Tue, Sep 29 at 9:39 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I never meant to wound you and I’m sorry I did. I should have explained myself better so you’d have understood I was not passing judgement, only asking for clarification.

It’s the inescapable truth that our capacity to hurt someone is linked to how important we are to this person. This makes honesty desirable yet dangerous; a double-edged sword that can cut deep if not handled with the utmost care. Thank you for telling me I matter. We might disagree on the truthfulness of my shortcomings, but regardless, your willingness to put up with them is appreciated. You’re important to me too, increasingly so.

Going into a meeting now - concerning news came, I have to work late. I’ll write more later.

Blaze

 


	51. Chapter 51

> Subject: **I owe you this**
> 
> Tue, Sep 29 at 11:22 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hi Blaze,

I want you to know I wasn't just being obstinate. I’m up on the roof (seems like the only place I can get a little privacy once in a while) and I've been sitting here a long time, thinking. Figuring this out was _hard._ (Go on, make the joke—“How hard?” There, we got it out of the way.) I know what turns me on, but I've never tried to analyze _why._ (We’ve already established I don't have a mind like yours. If I did, this would probably be much easier.)

I'm what you could call fairly good-looking, I guess, and I always have been. I’m outgoing. I get along well with people. I’ve never had trouble getting what I want. I’m more attracted to men than women, but both are usually interested in my attention. I know I must sound conceited, but I'm being honest. I've had my share of sexual experiences, but I get bored quickly. It's not unpleasant, as you described in your encounter with that hunter—it's just not _challenging._ Does it speak poorly of me, that I’m so competitive, that a challenge is not only something that appeals to me on the sparring grounds but also in bed?

I'm used to being in control. There's nothing erotic about that. The idea of not having control, having my own desires turned against me… is incredibly compelling. That's what I loved about that scene. I imagine you across the table from me, teasing me until I’m utterly at your mercy. How twisted is that? You keep turning your razor-sharp mind on me and I _like_ it.

So I hope you can understand that when I spoke of a game, I wasn't referring to anything shallow or trivial. Far from it—something very intimate. I should have explained myself instead of expecting it to be intuitive. It's difficult enough for me to untangle in my own head, I can't expect that it would make any sense to you. I hope you don't think I'm weird though. It's not an inclination that I've ever put into words, let alone shared with anyone.

Behemoth

 


	52. Chapter 52

> Subject: **I owe you something too.**
> 
> Wed, Sep 30 at 8:58 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

Thank you for your candour. I’m sure it was not easy to figure out and tell me all this, but I very much appreciate the effort. I feel a lot less confused now. And no, I do not think you’re weird. Not for a second. It all makes a lot of sense actually.

I ought to do some explaining of my own too.

Until a couple of years ago, I was still studying part-time in this gifted program I told you about. The learning part of it was fine, but the environment was not particularly nurturing nor comfortable. I’ll let you imagine what it was like. A competitive bunch of hormonal teenagers all jealous of each other and all hoping to be the next big thing in Insomnia’s high circles. And then there was me, too quiet, too serious, who had landed a prestigious position before I even knew who was who in this city. They were probably envious and didn’t like me much, but I didn’t care as long as they left me alone. Which they mostly did.

Until one of them had the bright idea to make asking me out the next popular dare. I heard it all obviously, they were not particularly discreet. I ignored them. Few were the ones who raised up to the challenge, I was intense enough to scare most of them away without trying. But I remember that girl coming one day - I can still hear her friends giggling behind her, spurring her on, like they had nothing better to do. Anyway, I didn’t dislike her. That was as good as it got at that time.

I was sixteen. I wasn’t as uninterested as I pretended to be, and I wanted so badly to say ‘yes’ when she asked. I thought she was nice enough, and maybe it would be good for me to do the kind of thing I was supposed to at my age. But I heard the laughter behind her and I told her not to bother me. Coldly. Mercilessly.

Her face fell, she turned away. By the time she disappeared around the corner, I think she might have been crying. Her friends asked her what she’d been expecting asking such a jerk out.

I realised at that point that she’d been serious, but it was too late. I’d turned into who they wanted me to be all along. It made me feel physically sick. I was angry. I hated it.

The next week I dropped out of the program. I didn’t really needed the teaching anyway; I’m a quick study on my own.

Anyway, I now work in an office when I’m not tutoring; I have a polite and professional relationship with my colleagues. They’re good people. They also have a betting pool on who and when I’ll start dating, it has been going on for months. I don’t particularly mind. Truthfully, I’m more upset that they still think I don’t know about it. They should have realised by now that I know everything.

Sorry, this is so long-winded. I guess what I’m trying to say is: I’m used to people using my personal life - or lack there of - as a joke. Or a game.

It doesn’t bother me. It’s a fact of life by this point; I have a pretty cynical sense of humour, it feeds into it well.

When you used that word, ‘a game’, I jumped to conclusion, assumed it was more of the same.

What I wasn’t prepared for, however, was how much it hurt. I couldn’t understand why. Why you saying this would feel like a punch to the gut when I would usually brush it off without a second thought. It didn’t make sense.

Except it does. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking of my own since then, about why this bothered me so much, and of course, it did because you matter to me more than anyone else ever did. I didn’t care about it being a game, I just didn’t want it to be a game for you. It only hurt because you were the one to say those words.

Now I know what you meant was nothing alike what I thought.

And well, if you still want that answer… I guess I want this. I want to believe in your words. I want to be the challenge you need, I want to play that intimate game with you, I want to be myself and I want you to like it. Or at least I want to try. If you’re still interested.

Blaze

 


	53. Chapter 53

> Subject: **Fresh start**
> 
> Wed, Sep 30 at 10:03 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

It's been a mercurial few weeks, hasn't it? Exactly a month, to be precise. (Yeah, I saved your classified ad. It’s pinned up over the desk in my bedroom. Call me sentimental.) I hate to use work as an excuse, but it might be partly to blame for my recent moodiness. I won’t bore you with details, but things ain’t going well at the family business.

I decided I needed a break, so I took the afternoon off and picked my sister up after her morning lessons for a picnic outside the Wall. Now I know at this point you're probably gasping in horror that I would take an eleven-year-old out there without backup, but like I mentioned, I'm pretty handy with a blade—and I'm teaching her to be, too.

We stopped at a haven a short drive from the city and she drew while I explored a bit—not too far, of course, still in eye's view. We carried on a conversation the whole time (that's how it works with little sisters). She absolutely would not stop asking me why I've been acting so odd lately. (When she gets her mind fixed on a question she's nearly as persistent as you are.)

So I told her. She was _fascinated._ I suppose it sounds romantic to a girl her age, the idea of getting to know someone through letters instead of a more conventional route. She insisted on drawing you a picture. We dropped it in the mail on our way home. Check your post office box when you get a chance.

It made me think, though. That you were right, I was being naive before, I was letting my imagination sweep me up into a romantic fantasy. I wasn't being fair to you. I should have paid better attention when you said the idea of moving from a spiritual to a physical relationship was difficult. Those two things are so entwined in me that it's almost impossible to imagine separating them. I read the words without really pausing to consider what you were trying to tell me. I don't mean I wasn't paying attention—I was!—but I think I understand you better now. I think I've been letting my own assumptions color all our interactions. I almost want to start at the beginning again, to take back all my stupid mistakes and careless comments and misunderstandings of who you are as a real person, beyond the words I'm reading, beyond the image I have of you in my mind.

And then I read your letter when I got home, and I was furious at those awful people, until I realized I probably hurt you worse than they did. By Shiva, no wonder you’re so wary, so hesitant to trust.

I'm still interested. But this time I'm not going to charge in like a big clumsy behemoth. You set the pace, okay? And I'll follow. Patiently. You have my word.

 


	54. Chapter 54

> Subject: **Re: Fresh start**
> 
> Thu, Oct 1 at 11:48 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

It’s hard to believe it’s only been a month. Much has happened in that time. Mercurial, indeed. It’s hard to believe how well you’ve succeeded in finding yourself a place in my life with little else but words.

As for me being hurt… None of the people I told you about deserve to be called awful, they’re flawed human beings who succumb too easily to a group mindset, but little else. Man is not the most pleasant of creatures and will often be weak and make mistakes; that’s why I believe intent to hurt is more reprehensive than the hurt itself. I understand now that you never intended to hurt me. So forgive yourself as I’ve already forgiven you. Besides, you’re conveniently forgetting that my overreaction wounded you as well.

It’s a strange thought, the idea that someone else knows about us. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset by it. But it gives our relationship a more tangible dimension in a way I can’t quite explain. Thank your sister for me; it’s charming of her to want to share something with me, particularly something she made herself. She sounds like a bright child.

And stop assuming I’m judging your actions. It is clear that you love your sister beyond all else, I would not believe for an instant that you would put her in danger. You could tell me you’re taking her to Gralea and I’d know you’ve made sure it was safe to do so.

Also, she’s right. It is pretty romantic to meet through a series of letters. Embarrassingly so. You do realise that if this goes anywhere concrete, we will never live it down? Make sure your pride can cope with it before I decide on that pace you told me I should set.

You said in one of your previous letters that your mind wasn’t like mine, that it’d be easier if it was. I don’t completely disagree, but I’d argue I’d probably have little interest in pursuing this correspondence if I could easily understand you. You’re fascinating to me. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that. You’re a being of strengths and contradictions, you always surprise me, you are unpredictable; and I wouldn’t have it any other way. With most people I interact with, it only takes a couple of pokes on my part to define the kind of person they are, to know how to best handle them, to foresee how they will react to anything. It’s easy and boring. Not so with you. I thought I had you pegged early on, remember? And you got so mad at me for it, it was startling and riveting. But now, I know better, I know how incredibly deep and complex you are. You might be outgoing and friendly, but you keep your cards close to your chest.

I respect that, so do I. But if this is going to go anywhere, we will need to reveal those cards, one at a time, slowly. You say I’m hesitant to trust, it might be true. I mostly see it as not being able to trust what I don’t intimately know. How can you trust what’s concealed?

We’ve skirted around the topic so many times, but if we’re taking this forward, I don’t want to wait until we’re facing each other - feeling like strangers despite being much more - flustered and awkward, to talk about what we want out of a physical relationship. As you mentioned, that transition might not be easy to negotiate, and I’d rather we were comfortable discussing our wants and desires here first before taking anything further.

You said you had your fair share of physical encounters. What if I asked you to tell me about the first time? How it happened? What you felt? I care little for the specifics, but I’m interested in that lived experience and what it meant to you.

Blaze

P.S. Remember not to answer this anywhere near your sister. If I know anything about kids, you’re going to have to escape her scrutiny now.

 


	55. Chapter 55

> Subject: **Oh you better believe I’m not letting her ANYWHERE near my phone**
> 
> Fri, Oct 2 at 11:49 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Blaze— Blaze—

I like to say your name.

What your letters do to me. I get home after a rough day, ready to bite someone's head off, and you're there like a voice of sanity, forgiving me all my snappishness and rough edges. Astrals, I don't know what I've done to deserve you, but I'm going to do everything I can to be worthy of your trust.

It did feel like a defining moment, telling my sister about us. I don't think I'll ever forget it. My hands full of flowers and her eyes going so wide. It was like drawing you forth from a private space within my mind and putting you in the clear light of day. You were all the more vivid for it.

You would love her, Blaze. I really hope you get to meet her some day. She's smarter than I am, sweet-hearted, quick to open herself to people. I don't want to change that about her but I'm doing everything I can to make her strong and give her the resources she needs to defend herself. Sometimes Insomnia seems like such a fragile bubble in the big world. If it ever comes to that, I don't want her to have to rely on me for protection.

I had to laugh—I hadn't considered how this correspondence would appear to everyone else. It is romantic, isn't it? You can see why I let myself get swept up, can't you? It's a delicious story. I wish—no, I won't get ahead of myself, I said I was going to let you set the pace, but someday I want to twine my fingers in yours and tell everyone. Proudly.

That's going to be simple. This is the hard part: opening up to you. Not because I don’t want to. Maybe we're almost mirror images of each other? You hesitate at physical intimacy. I—

(Insert here an hour's break, in which I inspected the contents of the refrigerator, paced up and down my room, lay upside-down on my bed with my heels kicking the wall for a while, and tried to get my goddamned mutinous thoughts in order.)

It's surprisingly difficult to decide what counts as the first time. Let's go with this.

You know how boys talk. Bragging, most of it fiction. I had a dramatic imagination and I'm sure I made myself sound much more experienced than I really was. I don't remember how old I was, but at that point my sexual experiences were limited to solo ventures.

We were sharing a tent. He took my hand, put it on his cock. I wasn't as startled as you might expect. We'd been teasing each other all night, in that stupid teenage way, roughhousing, all with an undercurrent of anticipation. So I thought something like that might happen. Was hoping something like that might happen, to be honest.

It was still a bit of a shock. I’d never touched another man. And it was an odd sensation, the familiarity of it, so similar to touching myself, but foreign, without my own reactions that I knew so well. I tried the moves that I knew worked on me. And yeah, he enjoyed them. A lot. It was intoxicating to feel him respond to me, to know it was my flick of the wrist, stroke of the thumb, that was making him groan. After a while he reached out and we were doing it together. It was weird because he didn't do it the way I would have, his grip was all wrong, but at the same time it was so much better than it would have been by myself. Because I could feel his breath on my cheek, I could smell his sweat, and every time he shifted his fingers it was a surprise—you can never surprise yourself like that. Not like someone else can.

Afterwards we didn't talk, just rolled over and went to sleep. And I guess it was satisfying physically, but I felt—I don't know, a little empty. I remember staring at the roof of the tent, him snoring there next to me, and just feeling sort of sticky and tired and disappointed. It didn't really feel like we'd shared anything. We hadn't even really touched, beyond the obvious places, of course. I'd still never even kissed anyone.

The strange thing is, he was a friend of mine. I mean, this wasn't just some random guy on a camping trip. I actually liked him a lot. I would have been happy to take it further, but when I tried to talk to him about it, I could tell I was violating some unspoken code. He ended up being more into girls, anyway.

You ask what it meant to me. Maybe I learned not to expect that sex would lead to something deeper. I heard later that he'd boasted about fucking me, like I was a trophy.

I guess I do play my cards close. I want to lay them out for you. If I’m abstruse it's not intentional. I meant what I said, I will follow where you lead.

Is there a sexual experience you’d feel comfortable sharing with me? Even if it’s with yourself? Or a favorite fantasy? I want to know more about your desires, too.

Behemoth

P.S. It's Friday night and normally I'd be out socializing, but instead I'm up on the roof again. (It isn't raining, which is fortunate because I don't think my phone is waterproof.) It's so quiet up here. You can hardly hear the traffic. I’ve been reading your old emails. It’s almost like being alone with you.

P.P.S. You haven’t ever told me that. I’ve reread it about thirty-seven times now.

 


	56. Chapter 56

> Subject: **The things you make me tell you…**
> 
> Sat, Oct 3 at 4:48 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I’d love to meet your sister one day. The way you talk about her, it seems one would be hard pressed but to love her. But you’re doing the right thing, making sure she can fight for herself. It must be difficult as a big brother to recognise you might not always be there to protect her. It’s a credit to your character that you understand the inevitability of that fact and do all you can to ensure it won’t be a problem rather than pridefully denying it. We live in uncertain times in a world that often turns out needlessly cruel. Your sister is lucky to have you.

Thank you for answering my request with such honesty, especially considering how onerous finding this answer obviously was. It means a lot that you’d trust me enough to share it all; the good and the not-so-good parts of it. I’m sorry to hear how he treated that unique moment you shared. It must have cut deep at the time.

It’s interesting to me that this physical experience left you feeling empty. I’ve never had much desire for sex on its own, it’s always been part of something deeper in my mind. For the longest time, I thought this made me different, maybe even abnormal. I wonder now if maybe my subconscious mind understood some key aspect of it better than my rational thoughts did.

After this story, I owe you something personal too. I’m afraid I have little to share about my own experiences, but I can tell you the scenes my mind conjures. It’s telling really that nearly all I imagine is part of a settled and safe relationship. As I implied earlier, I’ve never been turned on by picturing strange encounters or unfamiliar settings the way most people seem to be.

Domesticity, a deep bond are what I daydream about. Trust is all I wish for. I suppose it makes me quite boring. But there’s no point hiding it.

We talk about rain a lot; it started with that first reply I sent you. For a long time, I’ve had that… - maybe you could call it a fantasy, I don’t know - idea of a quiet autumn afternoon. It’s not quite cold enough for a fire yet, but the windows are closed and intermittently vibrate with strong gushes of wind. Rain starts falling and hammering the glass; that persistent, changing and beautiful song man forever tries to imitate but can never quite faithfully replicate.

Can you picture it? The half-drank afternoon tea abandoned on a low table, opened books on the floor by the couch where they were dropped silently, the thick carpet absorbing all sounds.

I was never clear about what was happening on that couch. I had glimpses; fleeting, changing visions, matching my mood of the moment. I told you before how I have little preference between men or women. It never seemed to matter much. Trust, knowing each other more intimately than anyone else ever could, this was what mattered to me.

You probably won’t be too surprised though, if I admit that this scene has changed since we started thinking there could be a _us._

Now, there are clothes strewn about between the books. The couch is of the deepest burgundy, large and plush; we sink into it so easily, it’s drawing us in as if it’d never let go. I see my hand grabbing the underside of the armrest, fingers digging into the cushioned fabric for purchase, for an anchor. And yet, there’s barely enough room for us both lying there, two grown men on a couch, especially considering how big you are. I remember.

But I can’t picture more than this, not without knowing what you look like. So I close my eyes, and then I feel. I feel you behind me, my back against your chest, warm and solid. Bare. I feel the words you murmur into my skin. I can hear your voice. I don’t know how. I just do. I can feel the warmth of your breath, the ghostly graze of teeth on the tendons in my neck. Your arm’s around my waist, holding me closer, ever closer. And then I take a breath and I wait, because if I let the images grow in my mind, if I give them the space, then I can feel you move. Around me. In me. I don’t know anymore. It’s not much. An almost silent brush of skin against cushions. Slow. Unhurried. Just enough to keep us from falling asleep, just enough so we can enjoy it a while longer. It’s not reaching for anything, it’s not aiming for completion. But it’s there deep, and hot; an aching, smouldering pleasure. That connection between us. It fills the room. Fills my mind. For a moment, everything else ceases to exist.

My fingers let go of the couch and reach for your hand, hold it as I push back against you. We’re so close and yet it doesn’t feel close enough. It never will. And that’s all. That’s how we stay. And the fantasy never ends.

Pretty maudlin and ingenuous, isn’t it?

I must seem like such a child to you.

I can’t help but notice in your last letter that you left that unfinished thought in… _‘Maybe we're almost mirror images of each other? You hesitate at physical intimacy. I—‘_ … and I’m sorry to be so obstinate, but I can’t help and wonder what you were about to say.

There is no judgement in my question, but that hesitation makes me believe the answer is important. There is something there you wanted to tell me and yet didn’t dare. But you wish you would, or you wouldn’t have made it so obvious. Maybe you thought I’d infer it from context, but I worry about getting it wrong. I’m sure it won’t come as a surprise to you if I admit to not being the best at understanding people’s deep-seated feelings and motivations. Would you tell me now? What physical intimacy means for you, what purpose it serves?

The afternoon light is filling my room in golden and warm tones, yet rain has started to beat against the windows.

Strange that I should tell you of that dream on such an autumn afternoon.

Blaze

 


	57. Chapter 57

> Subject: **…have rendered me completely incapable of thinking about anything but you**
> 
> Sun, Oct 4 at 11:19 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Uh, Blaze, “maudlin” and “childish” are not even in the universe of words I would choose to describe that scenario you painted so vividly. I'm glad it's Saturday. If I'd read this at work I would have had to excuse myself to the locker room for a cold shower.

It's such an inviting fantasy. I can't help stepping over the threshold, tentatively, because it's your fantasy and I don't want to disturb anything. It's so quiet in this room. Just the rain on the windows, and with my face pressed into the curve of your neck I can hear your breathing, languid and steady. Your body along the length of mine, our angles and planes fitting together, a lock of your hair brushing my cheek. And as I move (around you, in you) I reach for your hand, where it's gripping the armrest, and cover it with mine.

 

***

 

Do you really understand all your own motivations so well? I'm genuinely curious; it wouldn't at all surprise me. I don't. (For example: Do you think you've eroticized domesticity because you never really had it in your own life?) Your question about physical intimacy had me stumped. I decided to set this letter aside unfinished and sleep on it.

I'm glad I did, because now it's Sunday morning, and I'm at a downtown café, sitting at a table outside with a full cup of coffee and the leaves falling around me. (Since you enjoy precision, I’ll come right out with it: I am drinking coffee and watching autumn leaves this morning because both remind me of you.) There's a steady stream of people passing, most wearing scarves now that the weather has turned so cold. As I'm writing this email I'm also keeping an eye out, just in case I spot you walking by. I don't have many clues to go on (glasses, brown hair) but, romantically, I like to imagine that our eyes would connect and we would know each other instantly.

You don't like ambiguity, do you? I wasn't being evasive, I promise—I stopped after “you hesitate at physical intimacy” because I didn't know how to finish. I was going to say “I hesitate at emotional intimacy,” but it didn't seem quite right. It's not that I hesitate, it's—you have no idea how much I want to trail off here into ambiguity again. I can imagine you, waiting patiently for me to figure it out. Okay. Physical intimacy is easy. I make my living with my body. I'm used to having it on display. It's a tool; it almost doesn't belong to me.

But how I _feel_ —is intensely personal and leaves me vulnerable in a way my body never does. It's not that I don't trust you—I do—but the act of dragging those feelings out into daylight, forcing them into words, is not something I undertake lightly.

Another cup of coffee. There, now it's in front of me, billowing steam. Let me tell you about my first kiss.

This is a much more pleasant story than the last one. It happened not too long after that encounter in the tent.

(It surprised me when you said that must have cut deep. My first reaction was no, not really, it wasn't a big deal. I shrugged it off. But maybe it explains what I did next.)

There was a girl I hung out with, a few years older than me. Brilliant fighter—you wouldn't believe the things she could do with her hands. I'd always admired her. She's one of those people who is just effortlessly enjoyable to be around. Usually when we spent evenings in the tavern, all her colleagues would be there too. This time they were all off on some other adventure, and I figured it was my best chance to proposition her.

She grinned and said, “I'm not usually into guys, but you're too pretty to pass up.”

(Blaze, I'm inserting a note here to protest that I would not use that word to describe myself.)

She lived in a dormitory building just down the street from the tavern, so we went to her room and started making out on the bed. And in under thirty seconds, she pulled back and said, “You’ve never kissed anyone, have you?”

It must have been obvious. I was messy, sloppy, too aggressive with my tongue. But instead of throwing me out, she took my face in her hands and kissed me gently, soft lips and just a hint of tongue. “Let’s start here,” she said.

More than two cups of coffee and I won't be able to sleep tonight, so I'll end here.

I miss you.

Behemoth

 


	58. Chapter 58

> Subject: **I never doubted you were pretty.**
> 
> Sun, Oct 4 at 9:33 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

You’re not disturbing anything, it might be my fantasy but I invited you in; and trust me, I enjoyed every word you shared with me. I knew I would and I waited until I was back home to read your answer. A rather insightful decision as it turned out. To be perfectly candid, I read those words, and I wished I could send an invitation to you. A real one. But not yet. As appealing as the idea is, I do not want to rush it. I know I can be infuriatingly rational at times, but this is important to me - to us, our story deserves to be cared for and allowed to grow with every patience and care. We still have much to share.

I dislike ambiguity, I won’t deny it. I do understand though how difficult it must be for you to find words to answer some of my most personal questions. I truly appreciate all the efforts you have made over the past few weeks to accommodate my requests. I wished I didn’t have to make you feel so vulnerable, uncomfortable, but I want to trust you and I don’t know any other way but to ask this of you. One day, the Astrals allow, I will be given the opportunity to make it up to you.

I don’t always understand my motivations so well, but I endeavour to. I will not act on an emotion I cannot understand, not if I have a choice anyway. Instead, I will take the time to reflect on it and to reach the degree of understanding I require. Being in perfect control of my own thoughts and actions, understanding all the decisions I make, is very much how I was taught to function.

My work involves a lot of strategy, trying to plan the best course of action for the family company and its outlets, trying to predict what our competitors might do to surprise us. Above all, my role is to come up with contingency plans, and contingency plans for the contingency plans. In short, I have to be prepared for everything. So yes, ambiguity is uncomfortable, it’s a weakness, it’s a door left half-open that might allow that one monster I had not prepared for to come in and strike.

I guess work has - once again - coloured my take on my personal life as well.

To answer your question, yes, I think maybe I fantasise about domesticity and closeness because it’s something I haven’t had in a long time. That feeling of home. Or family. It might also be because I’m acutely aware that the chance of achieving such a bond in the future is, at best, remote. My duty comes first, I should expect my personal life to suffer the consequences.

But deeper than all this, those fantasies simply represent my desire - some might say my delusion - for unconditional trust, to have a space where I can be myself without having to be alone, a parcel of the world where I don’t have to pretend, or hide, or be in perfect control. A spark of time and space with someone - you, I hope - whose presence would make me feel safe and allow my mind to rest for a while. In this way, that domestic space is a visual representation of a bond I wish to create, less tangible yet all the more important for it. The emotions I associate with those images, they’re what matter. Much more than the setting.

I very much enjoyed reading about your first kiss. It sounds indeed like a much better memory than that first time. What happened next? Did she teach you much beyond kissing? Was it a one off encounter or did it last? Are you still friends?

It sounds like you really liked her.

I can tell you about my first kiss too. It’s surprising how well I remember it actually. You’re going to laugh, but it was right before I came to Insomnia. Our neighbours’ daughter had heard I was leaving, she wanted to come and see me but her parents were worried she’d interrupt our family’s last goodbye and forbid her to go. She escaped from a first floor window, sliding down a gutter. She had always been much more adventurous than I was, but I never said no when she dragged me along on escapades that often got us into a lot of trouble. I don’t remember the details, but I remember it always seemed worth it.

Anyway, she came running into our courtyard just as we were leaving. My father was already carrying my suitcase for the walk to the station. She stopped right in front of me. We were of the same age, but she was a good head smaller than I was. She still looked terrifying. I remember her so young face scrunched-up with determination and anger, and she put her fists on her hips and she told me I could go but I had to come back for our coming-of-age festival on the winter solstice. It was tradition in the village, celebrating all the children that had turned eighteen during the year when the winter came. She said I had to take her and she wouldn’t accept any excuse, fancy city or not. So I promised. She wouldn’t really have taken no for an answer anyway.

But it felt right at that moment, reassuring, to think about coming back for her, about coming back to be brought into adulthood where I was born, where my family was. She took my face in her hands and she kissed me, square on the mouth. And then she ran back home without looking back.

The festival would be this year, the 21st of December. I knew it was hopeless but I asked the hunters whether they would smuggle a letter for me. I wanted to apologise to her, even after all these years, to say I was sorry I wouldn’t make it after all. The hunters told me I would be wasting my money. The border between Lucis and Niflheim is impenetrable. Even if the letter made it through, the Empire has a habit of displacing people as workforce, the addressee would be long gone. And even if they weren’t, I shouldn’t count on an answer.

I sent the letter anyway. I don’t expect to hear anything back.

I’m not trying to sound bitter here though. All things considered, this is a happy memory. One of the happiest I have from home. I don’t know what happened to that child, but I’m glad that someone here in Lucis, still free from the clutches of the Empire, remembers her fondly.

I stopped by Daguerreo today and dropped the books there for you. I also went to the post office, got your parcel. Thank your sister for me again, the drawing is adorable. She is very talented and I hope she makes the most of her aptitudes. The world will be richer for it.

Your poetry book is beautiful. Tenebraean poetry is always so interesting, hermetic yet evocative. Without mentioning often unapologetically libertine. I thought this was your gift. It’s only when I read the first few pages that I realised this was only part of it. You seem to want to endanger my heart. How something so small and light could affect me so deeply when I saw it?

They’re all so fragile and beautiful. They remind me of the bond we are slowly weaving, also fragile, beautiful, at first glance doomed to be ephemeral… And yet, with due care and patience, I believe it too could settle into a shape that’ll take on a subtly different beauty and be much more enduring.

Thank you. I miss you too.

Blaze

 


	59. Chapter 59

 

 

(Above is a photograph of an open book of poetry with dried wildflowers spread across the pages. Next to the book is a child's drawing of a moogle holding a book. The cover of the moogle's book is titled "Blaze.")

 


	60. Chapter 60

> Subject: **I like it when you make me feel vulnerable**
> 
> Sun, Oct 4 at 11:31 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Dear Blaze,

Would you laugh at me if I said a thrill went through my whole body when you spoke of an invitation? I'm not being metaphorical this time: an actual, physical thrill. The anticipation is so sweet it's almost painful. Earlier you mentioned flustered first meetings. Is it the flush of infatuation making me believe even that would be pleasurable, with you? Awkward together, and laughing at ourselves. A hint of red high on your cheekbones.

I want to give you that space to rest your mind. Remember our early exchanges, when I chided you about overwork? I'm imagining myself on the burgundy couch, shoes kicked off, feet on the armrest, the lights turned low, reading. Half-reading. Half-waiting for you. And when you finally arrive, late into the night, I pull you down with me and make you forget about work.

I know I'll always come second to your duty, I understand that, but maybe I can help lift its burden.

I enjoyed reading about your first kiss too. But oh, what an ending.

Have you ever kissed anyone as an adult?

Am I going to be your first?

It's funny you should ask if she and I are still friends, because we spent this afternoon together at the tavern, watching the chocobo races on TV, as we often do on Sundays. And after a few beers she said, "That's it, I can tell when you're hiding something. Who are you in love with?" (A phrasing that caught me off balance, because normally it would have been, "Who are you fucking?")

So now that's two people who know about us. I couldn't stop myself, I just wanted to keep talking and talking and talking about you.

I feel a little guilty telling this story, since you'll probably meet her one day, so I'll just say that yes, she did teach me a bit more than kissing. And I couldn't have picked a better teacher. I was hopeless—I think I came after about two strokes inside her—and she just smiled and said, "Now that's out of the way, I'll show you how to please me." It was an exceedingly enjoyable lesson. By the time we were done, I was ready to go again, and I'm happy to say I acquitted myself much more admirably on that round.

We decided later that we made better friends than lovers, but I've never regretted the time we spent in bed together.

Anyway, Blaze, if we must postpone our meeting (and I understand your reasons), this isn't a bad spot in our correspondence to linger. I'm enjoying these stories. I hope you won't think me too forward for my next suggestion. You said you waited until you got home to read my last letter. Will you tell me—what did you do after you read it?

Daringly,

Behemoth

P.S. I'm glad you liked the flowers. I was afraid you might think me sentimental but it was just one of those golden afternoons that had to be preserved.

 


	61. Chapter 61

> Subject: **Unsurprisingly, and despite feeling guilty about it, I like it too.**
> 
> Mon, Oct 5 at 11:14 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

You have such a bright, positive mind. I imagine being near you must feel like being drenched in sunlight. Your anticipation and enthusiasm for our meeting are a calm wind soothing my mind and the disquiet brewing there. I am torn. I want to meet you; I can feel that desire, that longing, thrumming under my skin every time I read the words you send me, every second I wait for that mail to come. And yet, in the deepest recesses of my mind, a strong and irrational fear is always bubbling away, whispering that what we are letting ourselves feel and hope for here is but dreams sculpted with diaphanous ice that will shatter as soon as the unforgiving glare of reality shines upon it.

I apologise. I hope you do not think of this as cowardice. It will not hold me back forever. But as I’ll hope you understand from what I confessed to you before, I might need to have a contingency plan for things going wrong between us before I can move forward.

I do not know what it could be though. I imagine my life without your letters, your words, your thoughts curling around mine, and it appears a dull, empty wasteland. How have you done this to me?

Keep telling me what you imagine that first meeting to be like. What would you say? Do? I so badly want to believe in that bright vision of yours.

And to answer your question, no, you will not be my first adult kiss. I gave it away last year. It’s a funny story actually, let me tell it. There’ll be no bittersweet ending this time, I promise.

For the past three years, I’ve lived in a block of flats near my work, within the blurry border between the Crown and financial districts (now, you know which side to turn next time you’re on the roof and your thoughts drift towards me). My next door neighbour is about two years older than me and happens to be a young lady with a rather tumultuous love life. She was living there since before I moved in, and we’ve always been good neighbours. But it never went much further than that, until last summer.

I came home one evening, and as I stepped out of the elevator, she was turning the corner of the corridor and ran straight into me. I steadied her and asked if she was okay. She said: “you have to help me” with such intensity and despair in her tone. I nearly thought some crazed murderer was chasing her, my adrenaline started pumping, nerves tensing for a fight. I had no weapons but I’m still to be reckoned with in hand to hand combat. But before I could do anything, her girlfriend came into view. She did not look happy. They exchanged some heated words and then my neighbour said something about ‘still liking dicks from time to time,’ her girlfriend called her a liar. That’s when she pushed me against the wall and kissed me. Well, a bit more than this, really… I think what happened definitely forayed into ‘making-out’ territory. I was coming back from my training practice and I had loose pants and a tee shirt on rather than a full suit. Her hands got pretty adventurous.

I could have stopped her easily, but I didn’t mind helping out. I remember thinking that I’d play along since it was the ‘neighbourly thing to do.’ It sounds ridiculous now, but it made sense at the time.

So I let her kiss me. Open mouth. Tongue. Everything. She was pretty talented. It was enjoyable and it lasted a while since her girlfriend stubbornly stood there watching us, before finally deciding to get into the lift and leave with a few choosy insults I won’t repeat here.

When my neighbour finally let go of me, I was half-hard and there was no way she could have missed it with how she’d plastered herself all over me. It was somewhat embarrassing and I apologised, but she laughed, told me not to sweat it and that she’d have been insulted if I hadn’t shown some interest after her performance.

Then she admitted that ‘unfortunately, she’d been lying and she really didn’t like dicks, but could she bake me some cookies as a thank you for when I got out of the shower?’ I politely accepted; there are often lovely cooking smells coming out of her flat, I was not going to decline such a tempting offer. It turned out the cookies were delicious. When she brought them, she told me ‘it’d been pretty nice and if she should break up with anyone again she’d make sure I was around.’ I think she was joking. But I’m honestly not sure.

She’s been in a relationship for the past ten months and it seems to be going well, so I doubt she’ll need my services again any time soon.

When I went through this unfulfilled fling with that hunter I told you about a little while ago, I thought back on this incident with my neighbour a lot. I was trying to figure out why I hadn’t minded her kissing me like so, while I couldn’t go through with it with a man who was interested, considerate and good-looking. I know enough about myself to be certain it had nothing to do with gender.

But I’ve come to the conclusion that I didn’t mind sharing that physical moment with her because it had no meaning behind it, it was an enjoyable jape but little else. Kissing someone as part of a relationship - or attempt at one - was a very different step to take.

So you won’t have my first kiss. But I hope I can give you the first one that has any meaning and emotion behind it.

Would you be mad if I admitted to being amused by your latest request? I get the feeling that sharing my half-formed reveries might have given you the impression that I am either remarkably innocent or prudish. I can assure you that, while I have to admit to a certain lack of shared experiences, neither of those qualifiers apply.

What do you think I did after reading that letter? I jerked off, dear. As I’m sure you can imagine. I didn’t have time to go into anything more involved so it was a rather plain affair. I doubt I need to explain to you how hand jobs work. And yes, it was pleasurable, mostly because of your words lingering in my mind.

You said in one of those earlier letters than your own fingers or grip can never surprise you the way someone else’s can, and this is, of course, an obvious truth. But I’d argue that your body’s reactions to new fantasies and mental images can be rather unpredictable. Your own mind can surprise you by finding and pushing buttons you didn’t know you were hiding. That unexpected flinch or shiver at a particular word or turn of phrase flaring up in my conscious thoughts made the whole experience more enjoyable than a solitary hunt for an orgasm would usually have been.

It’s a strange thought, isn’t it? That you’ve never seen me, your skin has never touched mine; and yet, through the words you put on the paper, the images you sketch in my mind, the song you sang to my nerves, you’ve already made me come. I imagine you’ll find the idea rather pleasing.

I’ll admit here that if work would give me a break and I could have a full evening at home, I would want to read that letter again and take the time to explore my body’s responses to it further. Being able to close my eyes and imagine it’s you moving inside me is an alluring prospect.

I love the idea of you waiting for me. Maybe I would be a bit more reasonable with my working hours if I knew you were home, if my eyes automatically looked for your silhouette in the half-light of the living room as I came through the door. I have the feeling we’d fall asleep on that couch a lot.

Just imagine, waking up with matching groans and stretching because we haven’t had room to move all night and our muscles are stiff and complaining - yet, we slept soundly all the same. I can just hear that exchange, you gruff and half-asleep, telling me it’s been five days since we made it to the bed and this is getting ridiculous. I’d laugh, remark that you hadn’t seemed to mind the night before. You’d smile and admit you hadn’t. And then you’d kiss me. Deep. Meaningful. Another kind of everything.

Tell me then - on that couch or somewhere else - tell me of a fantasy you have yet to fulfil. Maybe even one you’d like to fulfil with me.

Missing you. Always.

Blaze

 


	62. Chapter 62

> Subject: **Wait do you mean you like making me feel vulnerable or you like it when I make you feel vulnerable and also why do you feel guilty about it**
> 
> Tue, Oct 6 at 9:42 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Okay, you made me laugh. I deserved that. It was worth a shot. I don't think you're a prude but I was fishing for another story. (Get it together, Behemoth, this isn't _Letters to Bedchamber Magazine.)_

You're just so good at telling stories. Even the silly one about your neighbor—I know I shouldn't read your emails at work but when there’s a lull between training sessions I can't resist. And then I spend the next few hours daydreaming about you in your loose workout pants, slipping my hands between your hipbones and the fabric, your skin still damp with sweat…

Excuse me. See how I get carried away?

If I'm sunlight, then you're the stars. Spectacular and piercing. I don't think you're being irrational. But if you're always planning for a worst-case scenario, I'm helplessly dreaming of the best possible outcome. Pretty words aside, could we take a walk together without running out of things to talk about? Are you interesting? Will you think I’m interesting? And how long will it take to break through that awkward first moment and recognize me as the person you’ve known for months, even though I seem like a stranger?

We could meet in the park, at that bench in the trees. I'll bring a peace offering to put you at ease: a book, a handful of flowers, a cappuccino. It’ll give you something to do with your hands while I tell you how my sister laughed when I said I was meeting my email boyfriend. And then we'll walk down to the waterfront, not in any particular hurry, kicking pebbles, getting accustomed to each other by slow immersion.

Maybe you'll decide you don't like me after all. That's okay. You don't owe me anything, Blaze. And I don't expect anything from you. I read somewhere that expectations are the enemy of love. I don't know if that's true but it sounds plausible.

By the gods, I'd miss you, though.

Behemoth

P.S. _Exceptionally_ pleasing.

P.P.S. We're in that quiet room again, rain lashing against the windows, and I'm lying on the couch. This time my hands are stretched above my head, looped with a fine silk scarf that you've bound to the legs of the sofa. You're stretched next to me, on your stomach. When I answer properly I get a kiss. When I evade, you turn away to read your book, dismissive and serene.

P.P.P.S. I told you I have weird fantasies.

 


	63. Chapter 63

> Subject: **The evidence seems to indicate that I like to confuse you.**
> 
> Wed, Oct 7 at 4:15 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I really should be asleep but work has kept me up and after fighting exhaustion for the past four hours, I’m now wide awake. I’ve missed writing to you tonight. I tried to be reasonable, lay in bed for a while but to no avail. I closed my eyes and saw the park, that bench in the trees, half covered in rust-coloured leaves. It’ll be a windy day, almost too cold to enjoy being outside. Yet, it’ll feel right, to meet there in the open; the alleys empty, filled only with our hopes and the cries of birds lingering in the warmth of the city later than they should.

I’ll brush the leaves off the bench and sit there. It’s a detail, but I won’t be wearing a suit, I will want this to feel private, my self in this park, on that day, unmistakably different from my workaholic self; an attempt to be only yours for a short while. I imagine I’ll have a storm grey turtleneck on, soft and fitted. And a white silk scarf. I will have told you about it beforehand, an easily recognised beacon in the golden autumnal tones of the gardens, so you can find me.

I will be there early, by fear of being delayed, ready to wait a half hour to see you. But you will turn up a mere ten minutes later, early too, and our eyes will meet and we’ll smile; our eagerness a bit embarrassing yet sweet for being shared.

You will hand me that coffee you brought and I’ll joke that you’re a man after my own heart. It will make us smile too. You’ll talk and won’t sound like what I expected. I’ll focus on your words, your turn of phrases, trying to find familiarity in a stranger’s voice. I don’t know what happens next, but I know you’ll remind me that I don’t owe you anything, that expectations are not what this is about, if I falter and tense up.

Am I interesting, you asked.

I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. I can hold a conversation on pretty much every topic, but that doesn’t mean it’s worth listening to. I hope silence can be comfortable too between us. Maybe not during that first meeting, we’ll be too on edge for it, but later on. Like that scene you describe on the couch, comfortable silence with a few shared words here and there.

I don’t think your fantasies are weird. I find them fascinating. I can imagine I gave you that white silk scarf I wore when we first met as a memento. You kept it but you never wear it. Well, not as a scarf anyway. You like when I use it to tie you up. Of course, silk would do little to restrain you if you truly wanted to escape, but you won’t fight against that bond, not with what it symbolises.

(I’m writing this lying on my stomach on the couch… it’s not nearly as spacious as the burgundy couch of our fantasies, barely wide enough for me, and yet it feels so empty. I can imagine that some evenings it’ll be my turn to wait for you.)

That night, you come home annoyed, nerves raw, work taking a toll again, tension throbbing in your muscles with an intensity so painful I can almost taste it. You know when your temper is flaring up but you can’t fully control it despite your best efforts. ‘Welcome back,’ I say. ‘Come lie down with me.’ At first you brush me off, say you need to go for a run to clear your head. And I don’t move, don’t say anything, just wait for silence to push you towards me again, for our eyes to meet. ‘Lie down, love,’ I say again. ‘Hands above your head.’ And you understand. You can’t hide that shiver coursing along your back. Your eyes are still on mine and you bow your head in surrender.

I tie your hands to the legs of the couch. It’s easy, you’re so eager. Then I lie down next to you and open my book. I don’t look at you, don’t say anything until I feel the tension draining from the solid planes of your body. I can’t miss it, we’re side by side, but you’re still pressed against me. The couch is not that large.

It takes a long time. You’re restless, impatient. Several times, I think you’re going to ask for attention, for mercy, maybe even call off my interference. I read and pretend not to see it, but I still worry. I wonder what I’d do if you decided that run would be better than my company after all. Contingency plans? My brain asks. I ignore it. I don’t need them with you. It took me a long time, but I’ve finally learnt that.

And as always, you come through beautifully. You let out a sigh, relax your shoulders. From the corner of my eye, I notice the weight of your arms finally resting on the tie binding them. I don’t look at you, turn a page. ‘What happened?’ I ask. ‘Nothing worth talking about,’ you answer. The tension is back, just a touch. It’s not what I want. I don’t reply. I go through half a chapter before you start talking. Still evasive at first, but I glance up in reward when you finally get to the core of the matter. That’s all it takes for you to give in. You explain it all, in details. My eyes are on you now, attentive. I wait until you’re done and I raise myself up just enough to kiss you, soft and chaste. You lick playfully at my lips but you don’t try to chase after me when I pull back. This is not your place; not now anyway.

‘I should know better than to fight you,’ you say. It’s almost an apology, but I shrug it off. You should. But I love that unreasonable and passionate temper of yours. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I start reading again. You’re fully relaxed now, sinking deep in the cushions. Rain starts drumming a soft lulling song on the windows. I don’t know how much time passes, engrossed in my reading. You gave that book to me, and as in all things, you knew exactly what I’d like.

‘Ask me something,’ you finally say. I’m surprised by how dusky the room has become when I look up. Your eyes are dark, there’s a hint of lust in them I know well. But I am the gamemaster here, not you. You know it, but you always push. I love that too about you.

‘You’re asking for it,’ I answer softly, eyes back on my book. I hear you swallow. ‘Yes,’ you admit. ‘Yes, I am.’

I wait a couple of minutes, but no longer. My patience is running thin too and as much as I direct the game we play, I’m hardly unaffected by it. But I never run out of questions that you struggle to answer. That’s just how our minds work. The more I learn about you and your desires, the more fodder I obtain.

‘Tell me about the rain,’ I say. ‘What?’ You sound confused. I don’t look at you, but I smile. I was hoping you’d be. ‘That’s all you’re getting. Tell me about the rain.’

I wait.

Your first few efforts are barely worth listening to. Trite and predictable. I keep reading. You pause, take time to think. When you speak again, I keep my eyes on you. You’re finally getting somewhere, digging deeper into your memories and what they mean to you. When you talk about that first letter I sent you, I have to kiss you. Hard, deep. Enough to take your breath away. But I’m not letting you off so easily. I pull back, just enough for our mouths to part. ‘Go on,’ I order.

You obey, all hesitation gone. You talk for a while; I urge you on with soft, playful kisses when you admit to some deep thought or desire I know you’d rather keep buried, yet that you bare for me. Me and no one else.

Finally, you fall silent. I’m pleased with your efforts. I go back to my book. ‘Good enough?’ you ask a while later. I make a noncommittal sound. You freeze besides me. I feel a pang of guilt for playing with you like this, but it’s too good to stop. ‘I want to ask you something else,’ I say. I see the subtle tension in your jaw in response. I know how exhausting this is for you. But you nod. ‘Okay.’ You’re always so willing for me, more than I can reasonably ask for.

But I take no pleasure in pushing you further than you enjoy.

‘Want me to fuck you?’ I ask instead of the agonising question you were no doubt expecting. Your breath hitches audibly. There’s a pause. I turn a page. Your voice is filled with lust and anticipation when you answer. ‘Yeah. Please. As if you have to ask…’

You’ve earned all I can give you by this point. I close the book, lean over you to drop it on the coffee table.

I don’t tease. Neither of us would appreciate it now. I open your shirt, button by button, push the fabric aside, my hands stroking your chest, down to the lines perfectly etched into your stomach. Muscles tense under my fingertips, warm and solid. I mouth at your neck, your pecs, bite a nipple to hear that delicious sound you always make. I let my hand trail further. You’re already so hard. I must be careful not to push you too far. I kiss your abs, the skin there is as soft as your muscles are strong. I shift, straddle your legs, lean forward and take the tab of the zipper in my teeth.

You’re not breathing. You should. I’m not done making you sing.

(Seems like I have weird fantasies too… although I blame you for this one.)

This took an unexpected turn. Probably the late hour. I hope you enjoyed reading it all the same.

Blaze

 


	64. Chapter 64

> Subject: **Not confuse. Dazzle. Captivate.**
> 
> Wed, Oct 7 at 7:32 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Your letter is a silk scarf.

I'm tangled.

How did you do that? I gave you a few oblique words and you spun forth the entire shape of my fantasy, everything I left unsaid.

Remind me again why we have to wait. Because otherwise I'm going to plead with you to meet me in the park in fifteen minutes.

 


	65. Chapter 65

> Subject: **I certainly like doing that too.**
> 
> Wed, Oct 7 at 9:34 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I’m glad you enjoyed it. And to answer your question, this, me taking liberties with your fantasies and you letting me know if I got it right or not, is exactly why we have to keep writing. Don’t think of it as waiting. Think of it as getting to know each other, deeply, intimately; as learning if and how we can fulfil each other’s needs and desires.

As frustrating as it is now, just imagine how much better it will make everything when we finally see each other. How perfect. Just thinking about it sends shivers down my spine.

So tell me too. Remember how you said you’d wait for me to get home, and you’d pull me down on that lovely couch of ours and make me forget all about work. Tell me how. Tell me what it’d be like. I want to hear it all.

Blaze

 


	66. Chapter 66

> Subject: **See if this makes you forget about work (DON’T READ AT WORK THOUGH!!)**
> 
> Thu, Oct 8 at 11:02 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Dear Blaze,

I can hear you in the hallway, removing your galoshes and suit jacket, shaking off your umbrella. I don't bounce up immediately like I used to, in our early days. I've learned you need those brief, solitary moments to decompress from the outside world. Our home is a refuge. We're deliberate about that, we don't allow anything within these four walls that could disturb our sacred peace.

When you come to me, your dress shirt is gone too. You're wearing only your pressed pants, riding a little low on your hips. I close my book and put it away. I was hardly reading it anyway, mostly dreaming about you, idly, missing you by my side. The couch always seems empty without you. I reach up my arms, draw you down against my bare chest.

First of course we make out, because I haven't seen you all day and I've longed for the taste of your mouth, the solidness of your shoulder blades beneath my hands as I pull you tight against me, the scent of your hair. But I can feel how exhausted you are, how tense, your muscles bunching under my fingers. I maneuver you underneath me, into the softness of the cushions. I'm holding my weight on my knees so I won't crush you. You lie back, a mere hint of a smile, watching.

And I take your glasses off.

You used to resist, argue that you wanted to see me clearly. Now you just close your eyes and let me do it. You've learned how seductive the world can be in soft focus. After so many lazy afternoons, so many dusky evenings on this couch, we trust each other implicitly. Here, in this quiet room, you can finally let your sharp gaze relax.

There are small indentations on either side of your nose, where the bridge rests on your face. I start with the left side, licking, massaging the tender skin with my tongue. Then the right. Kissing each closed lid, lightly, feeling your eyes darting underneath, your mind still whirring. You'll need more than kisses to slow that rapid pace. My fingers wander into your hair, at the temples, and stroke away the tiredness where the weight of your glasses sits all day. Your head is resting comfortably on the burgundy pillow before my hands slide down to your neck, the sides of your throat, soothing away the tension.

The whole time I'm watching the tiny telltale lines between your eyes, the hairline fractures that reveal the pressure you're under. And when they begin to smooth away, I know you're ready for more. Liquid kisses on the hollow of your throat, your nipples hard beneath my palms, and you start to buck and reach for me, but I coax you back down, whispering into the curve of your ear. You aren't allowed to do any work tonight.

It takes me a long time to cover the distance from your neck down to where you're pressing against me so urgently. I trail my fingers as I go, calming you, reminding you that we have all the time in the world. When I finally take you into my mouth, I can feel your whole body arch beneath me; I don't hurry, I let you enjoy my lips and tongue for a pleasant while before I lift my head just enough to ask, "Want more?"

You're breathing heavily, almost panting, but you still manage a tone of gentle mockery as you reply, "What do you think, dear?" I love that about you. Even as I'm carefully, patiently easing you into readiness, even as my fingers and tongue have you begging me to _please just hurry up,_ you’re still capable of sarcasm, although your eyes are rolling back and your muscles are almost vibrating in anticipation. When your demands lose their linguistic flexibility and deteriorate into pleading noises that aren't words, I finally give you what you're asking for. But even once I'm inside you I won't let you do any work. When you try, I slow my movements, stop completely, and hold you in my arms, feeling you tremble, before I start again. It lasts forever, this way. And oh, how good it is. How decadent and delicious. You fall asleep before we can make it to the bed, and I would never in a million years wake you.

Behemoth

P.S. Did I get it right? Close, at least? I wanted to give you a gift that matched the one you gave me. Alas I don’t have your aptitude with words, nor your piercing insight. Please accept it as the offering of not a brilliant mind, but a passionate heart.

 


	67. Chapter 67

> Subject: **I’d call it a success, thank both your brilliant mind and passionate heart for me.**
> 
> Fri, Oct 9 at 6:37 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

Did you get it right? I’d say so. I read this last night. It was lovely and made my flat feel so empty. I went to bed wishing the Astrals would let me dream about your words.

It worked. To start with at least. I had a dream where we’d met, and we were getting along so well. It was beautiful, like some kind of old fairytale. Cheesy as can be, yet so enjoyable. I don’t remember it all, I think my subconscious was having a field day and taking its time with it all. Anyway, at some point, we decided to move in together. So of course, we didn’t even have to talk about it, we went to try and find a burgundy couch. For reasons that will be obvious to you, it was an essential requirement for our home.

That’s when things got weird. We ended up making a scene in front of the poor shop assistant who was watching us argue with eyes wide as saucers. Apparently we couldn’t agree on the appropriate shade of burgundy of all things. I know how it sounds, but in the dream it seemed very important. We broke up over it. It was all very dramatic.

So it seems the more you reassure me, the more my mind finds the silliest possible things to worry about.

This is a false problem though, because as long as you promise to make that letter of yours a reality, I’ll let you choose the most horrid shade of burgundy you can find. And as someone who considers themselves to be tastefully, - yet daringly - colour-coordinated, I’m not saying this lightly.

I have to get to work. But thank you for the present, it was very much appreciated. I can’t wait to get home tonight to appreciate it all over again.

Blaze

 


	68. Chapter 68

> Subject: **Any shade your heart desires**
> 
> Fri, Oct 9 at 11:20 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Blaze, I dreamed about you too! It was Garden Festival and we were walking around looking at the flowers. That's all I can remember. I lay in bed for a while after waking up, with the hazy outlines of the dream still lingering, and I could almost— almost— see your face, but the more I tried to bring you into focus, the blurrier you became.

I worry I've given you the impression that all I think about is sex. It's true I've been giving my hand a hell of a workout lately—apologies for the crudeness—but I have entirely chaste fantasies about you, too. Have you been to the Saturday morning market, down on the waterfront? There are farmers from as far as Cleigne, stalls full of fresh produce and grains and spices, vendors selling curries and skewers, artisans with cunningly carved kitchen implements and fascinatingly misshapen pitchers and odd handmade soaps.

Imagine it's summer. We wake early; you've cured me of my lazy ways, I don't want to sleep through hours I could be spending with you. We walk down to the water, stopping on the way for coffee, and stroll through the market, hand in hand. You're determined, hunting down some unusual ingredient for a new recipe, and I'm content to follow, drinking my coffee, watching you haggle over the price of berries. (You always drive a hard bargain.)

Later I lean against the kitchen counter as you measure out spices and sugar, precise and focused. There's a smudge of flour on your cheek. I resist the urge to brush it away. You don't like to be interrupted when you're cooking, but you let me hang around, sneaking a fingerful of batter, entertaining you with a passage from the book I'm reading.

We burrow back into bed with more coffee and eat berry muffins hot from the oven, split and steaming. When I press my face into the curve of your neck, you smell of ginger and nutmeg.

 

***

 

I went to Daguerreo this afternoon. After I retrieved your package, I wandered up to the third floor. I paged through some of the books, but they were all wooden, full of clichés, and my mind was still saturated with your letter. I keep reading it over and over. It's a little terrifying, how accurately you aimed and unerringly hit the mark. I'm glad you aren't my enemy. I would dread to meet you on the field of strategy. _Ask me something,_ I said in that fantasy of yours. (Of mine? Ours?) I'll say it again, in reality this time.

Ask me something. If that's what must be done before we can meet, I'm willing to answer any question. Early in our correspondence I said I valued my privacy. I'm so far past that now. Ask me anything. I'll tell you anything, you and no one else.

Or maybe I’m looking at this all backwards, and there’s a question I ought to be asking you. If that’s true then give me a hint, Blaze, I’m not as clever as you—and I don’t want to push—I promised I would let you set the pace, and I always keep my word.

Another Friday night on my own. My friends are starting to complain that I'm ignoring them, but going out seems to have lost its appeal lately. It's far too cold to be up on the roof this hour of night but here I am, elbows braced on the wall, leaning eagerly towards the lights of the financial district far below, my eyes scanning the horizon. You ought to shine against the skyline like a flame. I linger, hoping.

Behemoth

P.S. I'll go to the market tomorrow. Looks like it'll be a nice blustery weekend for making stew.

 


	69. Chapter 69

 

 

 

(Above is a note which reads, "Dear Behemoth, I hope you enjoy the book. If you fancy more cooking, I recommend the stew on page 468. And of course, the accompanying story. It’s one of Retta’s best. Blaze." The note is followed by an interior spread from _The Lost Savours of Eos,_ which includes a recipe for Tenebraean Garulet Winter Stew and a story from the author about traveling to Tenabrae before the Niflheim invasion.)

 


	70. Chapter 70

> Subject: **Would you be upset if I told you I was there?**
> 
> Sat, Oct 10 at 9:28 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

This fantasy of yours is so lovely. As much as I enjoy the act of cooking in itself, there is something to be said for cooking for someone else, for sharing the dishes and sweets I’ve worked on. I’d love to make it a reality with you. All of it.

And you’ve never given me the impression that you only think about sex, where did you get that idea? If anything, I am the guilty party here. I pushed for us to talk more about it, because I want us to be comfortable talking about anything and this is usually the most awkward topic of conversation to broach. Certainly the one I’m less experienced with. But I’m very aware our connection goes well beyond shared sexual fantasies. Thank you for worrying though, but you don’t need to. I’ve discovered enough about the beauty and complexity of your mind over the past few weeks to never be tempted to simplify you, your words, or your desires.

I know the market you speak of, but I hadn’t been there in a couple of years as I work most Saturdays. I hadn’t planned on it and I hope you won’t be mad at me for it, but when I got up this morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about that postscript of yours. I was drinking my morning coffee and the window panels were vibrating under strong gusts of wind, blustery indeed. It felt like a sign from a benevolent astral, a reminder that wouldn’t leave me alone, whispering over and over in my ear where you’d be that morning.

For once, I stopped myself from overthinking, just grabbed my coat and went. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t thinking I could find or recognise you. It wasn’t what this was about. I only liked the idea to be near you, closer than ever before, even if I couldn’t know it for sure. It felt like our feelings would resonate with each other and grow, like answering echoes in a crystal cave.

I walked down the aisles, between the stalls, stayed mostly in the artisanal part of it, bought some almond soap. I didn’t go near the meat section, I knew you would be buying ingredients for the stew and it somehow felt like cheating. I know none of this makes sense. My heart was beating so fast, even though I could have run straight into you and not have known it at all. Do you think we would have known? It’s such a strange thought. I tried to imagine what it’d feel like to be there to actually meet you, to be waiting for you to arrive. It was so overwhelming.

But nothing happened. I absorbed the atmosphere, watched the displays, wondering if you’d stopped to admire them too. I had to dodge a coworker once, but he didn’t see me and my morning stayed blissfully undisturbed, just me wandering alone with thoughts of you. I bought berries and I went home after a couple of hours.

Within the confines of my flat, my nerves were set alight, my skin felt too tight. I couldn’t stop wondering if I’d passed you in that market. I realise how ridiculous I sound. Maybe you didn’t even go, maybe you were never there and I got worked up for nothing. Still, I couldn’t calm down, so I took a long hot shower, used the almond soap, thought of you a lot, whispered your name as I came.

I made berry muffins this afternoon (I'm attaching a picture since that's the only way I can share them with you). They were good, but not perfect. I’ll improve that recipe until I feel it’s worthy of you.

Ask me anything, you say. It’s only fair I give you an answer too. Ask away if you’d like, but I have no hint to give you. I’m rather curious to see what your question will be though.

There’s something I’ve been pondering; and yet, I’ve stopped myself from mentioning it before because it’s silly and childish, and so irrelevant to our current situation that it shouldn’t matter. And still… still, I can’t help but wonder. So since it seems that today my rationality is taking a vacation and I act on impulse, I’m going to ask it.

You told me about inheriting the family business in your letters before, how important it is to you, how your life could not be away from here because of it.

If it’s so precious, isn’t your family going to be upset if you don’t carry on the family bloodline? Are you not going to reach a point where no matter how happy you are you won’t be fulfilled without giving the business an heir? Can you really see yourself in a relationship that will never carry on your family name?

I realise I’m asking this way too soon… but I’ve never given my heart away to anyone. Apparently, it makes me both wary and a romantic idiot. If I end up giving it to you, I never want to see you giving it back.

Blaze

 

(above is a picture of a homemade blueberry muffin)

 


	71. Chapter 71

 

 

(Above is a concert poster for a band called Astral Love Affair. There's a large purple skull at the top and text at the bottom that reads, "Insomnia Dome, Saturday, October 10.")

 


	72. Chapter 72

> Subject: **You should have worn your scarf so I could spot you!**
> 
> Sat, Oct 10 at 10:29 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

This is the worst music I have ever heard in my _life._

I'm at a pop concert with a couple of my students. Something called Astral Love Affair. (I think it’s pop? They tried to explain the genre, but the nuances were lost on me.) No one else wanted to go, so apparently that makes it my responsibility. Whatever. They're in the seats in front of me, where I can keep an eye on them, and I can entertain myself writing to you. (One of them is squealing in joy; the other looks narcoleptic with boredom. That's his standard mien, however, so I can't tell if he's enjoying himself or not.)

Apparently Insomnia is the last stop on the tour, and this is some kind of grand finale. The amplification is so loud it's making my teeth ache, and the flashing lights are giving me a headache. (Sweet Shiva, I sound elderly, but this is really not my thing.) The dancing is okay, I guess, but I can't help feeling contemptuous of their thin voices, the auditory trickery they use to hide their lack of technical skill. I'm probably biased; my mother was an opera singer. She retired after she married my father, but she used to sing around the house, unaccompanied, just her voice rising clear and high as she worked on some task. I can still hear her when I close my eyes.

I have thought of having children. To carry on the line, yes, although if I fail at that perhaps my sister will take up the challenge. But also because I remember those peaceful afternoons with my mother. It would be pleasant, to have a home full of children. (Later. These speculations are set in some distant future, when we've come to accord with the Empire and bringing children into the world wouldn't seem so risky and cruel.) If I desired it, I imagine there are well-born women who would be honored to bear my heir.

I didn't have time to cook this afternoon before the concert, so I curled up on the couch with Retta's memoirs. They left me feeling restless and a little sad. How I would love to travel as she did! My happiest times have always been outside the Wall, encumbered by nothing but the gear I can carry on my back. That's another reason I'd like children, I think—teaching them to fish, which herbs can be used for food or medicine, how to build a fire, how to name the stars.

I'll throw that question back to you, then: Do you want children?

The fireworks are starting! I _do_ love those. And that means soon I'll be shepherding my charges home, safe and sleepy. Good night, Blaze.

P.S. I'll never look at almond soap the same way again. How could you be so close and I not notice? It was brave of you to go. I only wish you had taken it one step further and emailed me. Each time my phone vibrates, I hope it's a message from you. If I'd gotten that message, in the market, I would have waited at the berry stand for you. I miss your beautiful mind whenever we're not talking. And all the other beautiful parts of you that I still haven't met. Next time you're going to the market, tell me. I'll bring coffee.

 


	73. Chapter 73

> Subject: **This took a serious turn, please read it with privacy and a clear head.**
> 
> Sun, Oct 11 at 10:03 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I was not ready to meet you yet. But since I went to the market, our story has felt more real. Although I knew it before - rationally - it helped me truly realise that this could happen, that I could send you a message and you’d be there. It’s both a thrilling and unnerving thought.

And I see what you’re doing, always trying to tempt me with coffee the way one would offer candy to a child. It works better than I care to admit. Be warned, I’ll hold you to every cup you’ve promised me.

And I know what you mean about Astral Love Affair. My student has been talking about that awful pop for weeks, I think he probably was at that concert you went to, dragged a poor sod there to look after him. I made clear that it wouldn’t be me a while back. I love him but I’m not putting my ears through this for anyone. Not even him. I’ve banned that ‘music’ from the car whenever I’m driving him around. Reading your email made me roll my eyes and utter a despairing ‘young people, these days.’ They’re all the same. I sound more elderly than you do.

On a more serious topic, your letter confirmed something I’ve been suspecting for a while. You are not just working with aristocratic families. You belong to one. You don’t need to confirm this, I’m mostly being rhetorical. I’ve been living in those circles long enough to know how to spot someone who has a rightful place there in a way I never will.

Your writing style, the obvious education you’ve been given, I thought you were close to the aristocracy, but after that comment about ‘well-born women’ I could finally be certain your affiliations went further than this.

I can’t help but think I must have seen you before, at one of those stuffy and overcrowded palace receptions. It’s doubtful we ever spoke, there are so many people at those events, but maybe our eyes have met once or twice. Don’t fret. Being from an aristocratic family and involved in the military arts is not a particularly specific characteristic in these times. I have no interest in pursuing guess work before we meet.

Nevertheless, it is useful information. I understand the kind of reflections and comments I can expect you to blurt out. I know what thoughts and assumptions the privilege you were born into and the education you’ve been given might lead you to utter without a second thought.

You didn’t consider it at all, did you? How insulting that well-born comment would be to someone who’s a commoner? How naturally you assumed that only a woman of a social standing similar to yours would be worthy of your seed? How you obviously see your social peers as being inherently more worthy and deserving of your attention?

I usually brush comments like this one away. I know it’s not your fault. I know you’ve been raised that way. I know I shouldn’t be upset with you for it.

And yet, how am I supposed to take it? When I think of my mother struggling to read the letters sent by the son for whom she sacrificed everything she held dear. When I know she never heard opera in her life. When I remember the dry, thick skin of her cheeks, that felt like parchment under my lips after so many hours in snowy fields, battered by the wind. When I still recall how she soaked her fingers in water warmed on the mantle of the fireplace to soften the calluses on her hands, so they wouldn’t bleed when she started the long evening of needlework.

And despite all this, despite how caring, how giving, how beautiful her soul was, you and your peers, here in the cushioned life of the capital city would turn your nose at her, watch her with little else but pity, would never consider even talking to her or getting to know her.

What does that make me? Me, who will always unapologetically be the son of that barely literate peasant woman. What are you going to say when your peers will think it’s ‘cute’ you’re dating someone whose birth doesn’t match your own, someone whose job title is an expression of servitude? Are you going to laugh politely with them and answer with a clever quip about the ways of the heart being unknowable; a smart deflection that will still sound like you’re apologising for your lack of propriety?

You probably think I’m unfair to say all this because of a passing comment, nothing but a few words, and maybe I am. Growing in this society has taught me to be prideful - maybe excessively so - while still making sure I knew that nothing I did would ever make me the equal of the people I live along with and serve.

So forgive me, but if you are ever going to be ashamed of who and what I am, of where I came from, or if you would ever think that preserving your social standing should trump your feelings, this can go no further. I can take it from the rest of the world, not from the man I would hope to come to love.

As for children and to answer your question, it’s not something I’ve ever considered a possibility. I know my career path too well and the little free time it leaves me with. I can see every day in my student the damage an absent father does to a child. And I remember first hand what it’s like to grow up without love and affection.

Raising a child - especially one that’d be my own - is not a responsibility I could nor want to handle. Not that I can imagine now anyway. I do not presume to know all that life will throw at me and how I might react to changing unpredictable circumstances.

I know we said we’d stop apologising, but I still feel I have to for the turn this letter took. It’s probably not what you were imagining or waiting for. I’m sorry. Yet, I have to say all this. I don’t want to lie to you about what I feel, not even by omission. If we cannot work this out, if you can’t unlearn that unfair vision of others that’s been hammered into you through no fault of your own, if you choose to cling to that privilege of yours because it’s easy and comfortable - privilege always is, there won’t be much of a future for us anyway.

Blaze

 


	74. Chapter 74

> Subject: **I didn't sample any of the wine**
> 
> Sun, Oct 11 at 7:21 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Dear Blaze,

Cooking is good for thinking. You probably knew that already, didn't you? Thank you for the recipe. My kitchen smells deliciously of bacon and alstrooms and wine.

As usual, you're correct. I didn't consider it. I didn't consider it at all. I would never insult you deliberately—I say that not in defense of myself but in realization of how dense I've been.

Please allow me to apologize for my thoughtless words, and for hurting you. We did say we'd stop apologizing, but this is important. And you don't owe me an apology. It was something I needed to hear.

When I first read your letter I was shocked. But moving in limited social circles is no excuse. I've read enough to make up for that restricted worldview, I should know better.

_Laugh politely with them._ I read that and felt sick. Because you're absolutely right. I can see you understand the way my world works better than I do. But I would never, Blaze, I swear to you, I would never. And children aren't imperative. Let my sister have them, we’ll bring them armfuls of gifts on festival days and enjoy the holidays on our own, somewhere quiet, away from court. This is far more crucial, what you're understanding about me now. It's all true. I am the heir of a noble family. I do have the prejudices of my class. And I'm ashamed. You shouldn't have to brush comments like that away.

Your fearlessness, your insistence on what is right rather than what's safe, your willingness to uncover unpleasant truths, and bravery to bear the consequences—these are fundamental aspects of your character. And they are of far greater significance than your social status. Such that any consideration pales as a candle held up to the sun.

To be entirely clear: I have nothing but admiration for who and what you are, and for where you came from. And my social standing can go hang. Next time I make a careless comment like that, tell me, please.

I grieve for your mother, and I wish I could have known her. How proud she would have been of her son.

With utmost respect,

Behemoth

 


	75. Chapter 75

> Subject: **Thank you.**
> 
> Mon, Oct 12 at 12:21 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I was bracing myself for a defensive and disparaging answer. I shouldn’t have doubted you. Thank you for listening and for replying in a sensitive and thoughtful manner. As much as reading can open one’s mind, fighting prejudices that have been engrained and taught to you since childhood is a daunting task, one that requires a lifetime of introspection, willpower and learnt humility.

I want you to know I understand this. And as long as you are prepared to keep listening to what I have to say and make amends if appropriate, I will not judge you harshly for the unavoidable missteps that are to come. But I hope you realise this is not just about me and that relationship we want to build, I hope you can understand how this will change the man you’ll become and the life you’ll live. As worried as we are by the current events, we are not the ones who stand to suffer the most from any tragic development. Let’s not forget it as we lead our safe lives under the city shields.

Beyond my lecture, I cannot find the words to tell you the relief I felt reading your letter. I thought for sure that this time I had found something that would make us drift apart, a difference our prides wouldn’t allow us to reconcile. I have never been more glad to be wrong. What have you done to me? For relief to choke me like this and bring tears to my eyes? When I finished reading, I wished for you to be there so badly. I wanted to lean into you, my head on your shoulder and your arms around me, silent and unmoving for a blessed while. That need was so sharp I could taste it.

And yet, if our last couple of letters have proven anything is that we have much left to discover and discuss using this medium. Important, essential exchanges. Thank you for giving us that time.

But enough stern talk. To distract myself as I waited for your answer, I thought of you reading Retta’s book and - as I have many times - fantasising about travelling in nature and seeing the world. I started daydreaming (I hope you realise what a threat to my productivity you’ve become). With our duties, we won’t be able to go far, but maybe, if we can arrange to have two or three days off in common, we could go outside the walls. With a bit of planning, we will cross the Leide desert and make it to the outskirts of Duscae. Just imagine, a small isolated haven away from the beaten path, on the shore of a clear lake, a waterfall singing in crystal tones as it cascades down the nearby rock face.

We leave the car ten miles back, trek our way up to the lake carrying only the bare essentials. We make it there at dusk, that magical time when the light goes golden and all the birds chirp away to announce the end of the day.

The water is freezing, yet looks like a pool of liquid fire and we can’t resist. We dump our packs and make for the shore, leave our clothes there and go for a swim. The water tastes as pure as Shiva’s tears. And after a few laps, you sneak up on me and pull me under. I try to get you back, and we play and laugh like children, never pausing long enough to worry about the puerility of our display.

But after a while, our interactions change, slowly, subtly. Hands linger a bit longer. Our escape attempts grow half-hearted. I draw you towards the waterfall, pull you under it and you trap me against the rocks. Water cascades around us in a diaphanous veil, like a magical barrier protecting us from the world. It’s not a game anymore. Your hands are warm on my skin despite the coolness of the water, your mouth soft against mine. Time becomes irrelevant.

We don’t stop until we’re both shivering, covered in goosebumps, until you thumb my lips, concerned that no matter how many bruising kisses you give me the blue tinge of deep cold still persists on them.

‘We have to go warm up,’ you say. And I laugh at how doleful you sound, but I lean in and tell you about all we’ll be able to do after thawing out. You smile, kiss me once more and drag us out of the water.

There’s no daylight left. Yet, the haven is so far from any human settlement, the night sky is speckled with stars, the moonlight glowing silver over the landscape. We make a fire to warm up but we don’t need any extra light.

Dinner is something quick we packed with us. Maybe even some of those horrid instant noodles you’ve pranked me with. We eat and recall those absurd first letters fondly. It feels like a lifetime ago; yet, so precious still.

We forego the tent to be able to look at the unblemished sky, spread our sleeping bags over the rock. And we make love there, forget everything else for a while. Duties. Responsibilities. Politics. The days to come. We take our time, turn it into a genuine, unhurried expression of all we feel for each other. It’s perfect. Except for that near accident when we move too close to the fire and the corner of the blanket gets burnt by the flames. We have to pause then and laugh at ourselves, at how eager and absorbed we’ve gotten. But it doesn’t break the spell, only enhances the impossible awareness we have of each other, of our bodies and our minds. So close and indistinguishable.

Afterwards, we lie unmoving, staring at the sky. You point out the stars you’ve learnt to recognise during your survival training. I show you the constellations the country folks have drawn in the skies for centuries, tell you the few legends I still remember about them. We talk until dawn, wake up way too late past midday, and end up doing but a fraction of what we had planned. But it doesn’t matter. It’s what we need. A fragment of peace that is our own, an ephemeral yet priceless shelter from the world. If you want it.

Now tell me. What have you been daydreaming about?

Blaze

 


	76. Chapter 76

> Subject: **Thank you. For challenging me**
> 
> Mon, Oct 12 at 11:03 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

If I want it? Hell yeah I do. I'm practically bouncing with excitement. You like camping! (Or the idea of it, at least? Have you ever been?) Your story was so vivid, it almost hurt to read—how badly I wish it were true. How true it felt, and then I got to the end of the page and lifted my eyes and found myself back in dreary reality.

It's funny we had our serious conversation over the topic of children; if you hated camping, that would have been a much more likely dealbreaker. Yet for all I talk about going outside the city shields, my vision is remarkably circumscribed by them, isn't it? I'm so used to worrying about their integrity, the defense of the Crystal—hardly issues of importance to those who live outside the Wall. I will keep listening. I will make amends.

Your letter made my heart ache. You sound so alone, surrounded by people who don't understand you, bracing yourself for insult rather than affection. How I wish I could be with you, to pull your head against my shoulder and wrap you in my arms, to whisper endearments in your ear, to tell you how loved you are.

I've been daydreaming about waking up with you.

You stretched along the length of my body, our skin warm and slightly damp where we’ve been pressed together all night. You work such long hours. For the few we spend together, I can never bear to let you go far from my touch. You wake earlier than I do, and sometimes when I open my eyes you're focused on your phone, already working. I throw my arm around your waist and pull you down under the blankets with me, greedy for your mouth, your irresistible lips. Maybe you make me brush my teeth first? I don't mind, I bring you a cup of coffee on the way back. (I do keep tempting you with coffee, don't I? I think I like the idea of doing small things for you.) We spend hours in bed before your feet ever touch the rug. And then I drag you into the shower with me, both of us sputtering under the water and laughing, and you make some biting comment about—oh I don't know, I have the wrong brand of shampoo or something. I make you eat your words by kissing you down your body until you gasp.

Blaze—I imagine you like that, burning with intensity, I want to get on my knees before you and give you pleasure like you’ve never known, like you deserve, until you're aflame with it. Blaze. I don't need to know your real name, you are all fire and light in my mind, searing. Blaze. No name could suit you more.

Behemoth

 


	77. Chapter 77

> Subject: **Rain, lake, showers, and now baths… we have an unexplained water fixation (that I’m thoroughly enjoying).**
> 
> Tue, Oct 13 at 9:10 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dear Behemoth,

I do like camping, although I’ve seldom had the time for it in recent years. I love having to improvise a decent meal with whatever I can find in the nature around me, and I dare say I’m pretty good at it. I did a bout of basic survival training a while back, but the company wasn’t particularly enjoyable and I was glad when it was over.

Otherwise, I’ve taken a couple of weekends off and gone outside the walls on my own last year, hiking during the day and renting a caravan for the night as I don’t own any proper camping gear and it meant I could travel light. I’d walk far from the settlement in the evening anyway and lie down on in the middle of the desert to watch the night sky. It looks so different out there than it does in the city, it feels like you’re in another world. But those escapades were more often than not an attempt at giving myself space to think and getting back in touch with the roots I lost so long ago. I enjoyed them, but they also made me broody and melancholic.

Going camping with you would have a different tone, a much more pleasurable one, and I’m definitely looking forward to it.

As embarrassing as it might be to admit, I’m not nearly as lonely as I used to be since we started writing to each other. It’s wonderful how a few words lighting up on a computer screen can so tangibly fill what was once a bottomless emotional void. But I can already feel us getting to the point where it won’t be enough anymore, where the desire to see you will turn into an imperative craving. I know this; don’t think I don’t.

I want to wake up with you like you described. During the week, I’ll have to leave early but I’ll know we’ll be able to take our time at the weekends. I’ll look forward to it every day as I slip out of bed, a silent and blessed countdown in my ringing clear in my mind. I’ll picture being with you under the shower for hours, until the water grows cold, as I hurry out the door. And when we finally get to those few hours that’ll be only ours, I’ll watch you fall to your knees in front of me. I’ll thread my fingers in your hair, a touch too hard - so you can feel how much I’ve been wanting this - and let you take me apart.

It’s only been a couple of weeks but I can’t resist asking. How’s your hair coming along?

You’re going to laugh at me, it’s so childish. I used to just comb my hair so it was presentable but never gave it much thought. Of late, however, I’ve been experimenting with it, styling it in different ways. I think I finally found a look I like. Thinking of meeting you is making me vain when I never had a need for that kind of ego before. You’re a bad influence, Behemoth, you’ll have to take responsibility.

Talking about that shower, I’ve long had a vision of getting a better place to live in the years to come. I wanted it to have a bathtub, so when I got a few hours of respite I could lie in the water, in the warm half-light of candles, a pot of herbal tea on the side and wait until my mind drifted into a peaceful and undisturbed space.

But as with every of my thoughts recently, you’ve invaded that dream too. Now, I want you to be there. I want to lie against your chest while hot water rocks us gently, my hair brushing your cheek. We wouldn’t speak, we’d just be together for a while, enjoying the unspoken connection woven between our souls.

Before you say anything, I do realise we’d need to procure a made-to-measure bathtub if that’s ever to happen. But dreaming of it is easier.

Which reminds me, I was thinking of that waterfall, of making out with you under the water, of how it’ll light up my senses. And I realised I didn’t know enough to imagine it as perfectly as I wanted. So let me ask you, do you shave? How often? Tell me what your skin will feel like under my fingertips when I hold your face in my hands to deepen the kiss that’s already stolen our breath away. I want to close my eyes and imagine stroking your jaw line almost as if you were here. Almost.

And if you’re wondering, yes, I keep myself clean-shaven every day. That fantasy of yours where we wake up together might lead to some stubble burn. But I wouldn’t really mind, and I’d be surprised if you did.

On another topic, I wanted to send a gift to your sister to thank her for the lovely drawing. I made something I hope she’ll like and I’ve dropped it at Daguerreo for you to pick up. Yes, there’s also something for you in that package, but you’ll have to get it to find out what it is.

Blaze

 


	78. Chapter 78

 

 

(Above is a photograph of two crocheted moogles. The larger moogle is cream-colored, with a pale blue belly and a red nose. The smaller moogle is white, with a pink nose and a pink pouch from which a cactuar is peeking out.)

 


	79. Chapter 79

> Subject: **Stars preserve us, are we both ruled by the sign of Leviathan?**
> 
> Wed, Oct 14 at 8:02 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

My sister is literally _jumping up and down_ on my bed right now, she's so pleased with your gift. It's making it very difficult to type. There, now she's settled down to play with the moogles. (She says thank you. Well, she did after I reminded her.)

Seeing your face—touching your hand—it's already an imperative craving for me. When you speak of threading your fingers in my hair, I have a sensation of vertigo, like leaning over the edge of a high tower. I felt the same when you first told me you dreamed of twisting your fingers in it. It's odd that words on a screen could create such an intensely physical reaction.

I usually wear my hair with the sides short, a little longer on top. Since your letter I've been letting it grow, and I think you could easily twine your fingers in it now. When I close my eyes I can almost feel the tug on my scalp—

Okay, I had to open my eyes because she demanded to know if I was falling asleep and I'm supposed to be admiring her new toys. Did you make them yourself? Each time I think I know all your talents, I discover more. (And, lasciviously, I am certain that will continue to be true once we finally meet in the flesh. Oh, it's you who are the bad influence. Remember how I said I didn't care what you looked like? I find that's not true anymore. Now I care _desperately._ I want to see your new hairstyle. I want to run my hands through it until it's utterly destroyed.)

Like you I'm clean-shaven, as tends to be standard among the men of my household. Would you rather I let my beard grow too, so I could give you proper stubble burn? I've never liked shaving, honestly—I have thick dark hair and by afternoon my jawline is already bristling. Would you enjoy it if I abandoned my military training and went quite feral for you? I like the idea of us in your enormous custom-made bathtub, working my way up your body and leaving the scrape of my beard as I go, so you can remember me after we've dried off and gone to our separate daily tasks. Under your pressed pants, perhaps you'll still feel that phantom touch hours later and be distracted from your lesson plans. (Okay, I admit it, I _am_ a bad influence. You make me want to run wild and wicked.)

Finally! My sister has skipped away to show the moogles to our houseman and I can open your envelope.

 


	80. Chapter 80

 

 

 

Enclosed with the returned book is the following note: ‘Dear Behemoth, Remember how you said writing is frivolous? But you also said you liked looking at my writing. I scribbled this the other night. Sending it to you is probably a terrible idea, but I've just spent half an hour outside in the rain trying to clear my mind and it's not working. So here. Have it. I apologise for how uninspired it is, but I hope you’ll understand what it means. Blaze'. A second sheet of paper reads:

 

Candescent ember unseen in sunlight

As Astrals whisper promises of wind

I dream voiceless of flickers so bright

Short-lived illusion fickle gods rescind

 

Faithless and fading I call a prayer

In an abhorred void of scorn and deceit

Swelling far below a bright cut-glass snare

Curious words bring on loneliness’ defeat

 

Storms roar in anger hiding a wild beast

Tales of red magic in its ghostly wake

It circles and strikes veins bleeding a feast

Of nothing but truths as I kneel and shake

 

Behemoth, I dream of your hands and gaze

Come closer and take all you set ablaze

 


	81. Chapter 81

> Subject: **Uninspired? On the contrary. I love it. Thank you**
> 
> Wed, Oct 14 at 8:28 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Oh, wow.

Do you mean it?

Are you really ready?

Am I understanding that final couplet correctly?

I must have read it ten times already—your lovely spiky handwriting and the words you wield like daggers. They pierce my heart. I want to hear those words from your tongue; direct, without the barrier of time and typed sentences. Without having to keep checking my phone, hoping for another message.

Anywhere, anytime. I'm yours. It wouldn’t matter if it were a crowded bar or a royal banquet. The first thing I would do is ask if I could kiss you. And if you said yes—

I would tilt your head back and slip my hand from the line of your jaw to the back of your neck.

Your lips are soft, and when they respond without hesitation, I lose myself in the pleasure of your mouth.

Astrals, I have to pull myself together. She'll be back any minute now. But I had to tell you. Did the rain clear your mind? Mine is drenched; swimming.

 


	82. Chapter 82

> Subject: **My doubts always vanish when I read your letters.**
> 
> Thu, Oct 15 at 1:17 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest Behemoth,

Of course, I meant those words. I would not play with your heart (nor mine) like so. However, after all we have been through over the past weeks, I would ask your patience and understanding still. While, I do want us to meet, I also believe it is worth giving this some thought.

You ask if I’m ready… I do not know. I hope I am. All I know is that the desire to see you, to feel the warmth of your skin, to hear you say those words ‘Can I kiss you?’ has overwhelmed all my fears and reticences.

But I want to skew the odds in our favour and I have been thinking much those past few days about the best course of action. I thought of that bench in the park, that fantasy I told you about with that white scarf that was answering one of yours. And yet, I worry that if it fails to mirror exactly what we’d imagine it would lead to a shaky and doubtful start on our part.

I wonder if we should meet somewhere with less significance, almost like an inconsequential first date. Maybe somewhere not so empty, where we could let ourselves be guided by the flow of bustling activity around us. To start with at least. It’ll be up to us to decide when to leave that place, if we agree on taking that next step.

Maybe you’d prefer to risk everything in a passionate and daring encounter. But you know how my mind works by now. None of what I’m saying here should surprise you.

I am trying my hardest to keep some semblance of rationality. But to answer your question, no, nothing clears my head anymore. I doubt anything could, not until I get to see you.

But I must rein myself in and answer your letter properly.

I am glad your sister likes the stuffed moogles. And yes, I indeed made them myself. She had given me a gift of her own creation, it would have been impolite of me not to reciprocate. If she wants to and I ever meet her, I’ll be happy to teach her how to make such toys. It’s not that difficult with a bit of practice.

As for my hair, your words hit true, and I’ve started to wonder if I choose that hairstyle only so you could mess it up. It’s an interesting thought. No-one has ever made me questions my true intentions the way you do. And here I thought - before I met you - that I had a good grasp on my own motivations. But you have to shatter everything I am, don’t you?

And I don’t even mind. What are you going to do to me when we meet? The intensity of what I feel when I think about it scares me. Yet, I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

As for your beard, I don’t particularly mind either way. A proper beard is nice. Rough without being scuffing the way stubble usually is, electrifying rather than burning. I suggest you try it and see if you like it. I can always let you know if I do later. It might fit well with some fantasy of mine.

I wait to hear your thoughts about our meeting.

Blaze

 


	83. Chapter 83

> Subject: **And my heart always lifts when I read yours**
> 
> Thu, Oct 15 at 2:59 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Oh, Blaze. You've got me so attuned to your voice now that from the first word— _dearest,_ oh say it again, please—my pulse speeds up. I keep reading your poem over and over. It's embarrassing, you'd laugh if you could see me. I'm in a brief lull between sparring sessions and I should be checking over the practice weapons or something. My student is due here in fifteen minutes and instead I'm tucked into a corner, cross-legged on a stack of mats, letting your words wash over me.

Even more embarrassing is how many times I've lain in bed imagining the park bench and the white scarf. I agree with your pragmatism here. To meet on more neutral ground might be wise. Not the tavern I usually go to—my friends could be there, it'd be weird. Is there a bar you like? I realize (this is a bit late in our correspondence, isn't it) that I don't know where you like to go out. I can't wait to learn. Your favorite restaurant, your favorite bookstore, your favorite place to hear music.

I don't want to shatter you! Don't say that. I love you exactly as you are. (Except your hair will definitely need to be messed up. In my mind you're just as angular as your writing, all sharp corners and straight lines. I'm picturing your hair like that too. And I'm going to rake my hands through it, the first time we meet, and spoil all your hard work in front of the mirror. I'm apologizing now so we can skip past that part once I actually do it.)

I've already thrown my razor in the trash. But you can't think I'd let a tantalizing hint like that go unquestioned. Tell me about your fantasy? (Shit, gotta wrap this up, here he comes. Time to swing a sword around and pretend I'm not thinking about you.)

 


	84. Chapter 84

> Subject: **I can’t imagine we’ll ever get tired of hearing those words.**
> 
> Fri, Oct 16 at 12:34 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

My dearest Behemoth,

(You are mine, aren’t you? I still don’t fully understand why, but I know it’s the truth.)

I didn’t mean I resented the idea of feeling myself shatter through your actions. If I try to explain it, it’s as if you’re shattering the armour loneliness has gradually built around me, so heavy and unfaltering that I forgot what I look like when I’m not wearing it. So your words and emotions are shattering my idea of who I think I am, but as it all falls apart I’ll get to find what I was hiding from myself underneath it all. It’s scary. And exciting. None of it would have happened without you. Thank you.

The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of you with a beard. Shall we exchange presents when we meet? I’ll buy you a trimming kit, you can buy me a silk scarf, both will serve as lovely reminders of all our daydreams.

We have much to learn about each other still, but it will be nice to do it in person. As for going out, I hardly do so. Most of the time, I go to the roof to listen to some music if I fancy getting out of my flat during the evening. But I do go to live shows of my favourite bands once in a while. They’re not very notorious so it usually happens in small clubs that specialise in that kind of music. It’s unlikely that there’ll be anyone there either of us would know.

Hunters of Ifrit have a show next Saturday night. We could meet an hour beforehand at the bar? Talk a bit, have a drink, then listen to the show. Pressed against each other in the crowd. It’d be a nice first memory together. What do you think?

About the poem, it is a rather terrible piece of writing but it helped put my thoughts in order. It seems to have the reverse effect on you. I cannot say I am sorry about it though.

I’ll tie you up one day, whisper every verse in your ear as you lie there powerless; then I’ll leave you, go sit in an armchair a few meters away. I’ll watch you as I loosen my tie. And then we’ll wait. See who runs out of patience first. You all tied up on the bed, having to wrench yourself free. Or me sitting there taking my clothes off as slowly as I can.

But that’s enough fantasy for now. I might tell you the other one a day I feel brave, but not today.

Today, I want to sit there and read over and over again how you wrote ‘I love you’ so naturally. Effortlessly. ‘I love you.’ Such small words. And yet, my world came to a halt when I read them. I sat down and stared at the screen for a long time. But I didn’t doubt them. Not for a second.

Still, can we really… through nothing but words lighting up on a screen and a few parcels left for us to find? But Shiva have mercy on my soul, I don’t know any other words for what I feel when I think of you. I love you too. Exactly as you are.

Blaze

 


	85. Chapter 85

> Subject: **Never**
> 
> Friday, Oct 16 at 6:34 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

It's so cold I can barely type! I must be nuts but I went down to the tavern (my friends were making me feel guilty for never hanging out with them anymore) and after a couple of beers I was so bored, I had to pretend I was getting another drink and slip out to the back patio instead to email you. So here I am, wedged between the potted palm and the empty liquor bottles again, freezing my ass off, and happier than I've ever been. I can't _wait_ to meet you, Blaze. I've been thinking about it all day. What bar is the show at? Can you email me the flyer?

I like the idea of seeing who you are under all your armor. We were both protecting ourselves pretty well at the beginning of this correspondence, weren't we? You've taken down my walls too—not shattered—deconstructed them shard by shard—made me tell you all my secrets—and now I'm just left with my hand outstretched to you, unguarded and whispering those thrilling words over and over: _I love you. I love you._

Tomorrow I'm going down to the fashion district to buy a scarf. (White. Silk. Do you know what that paragraph in your last letter _did_ to me? I'm still breathless.) I have to be fitted for a costume too, for the Palace ball—are you going? It's that annual Day of the Scourged masquerade. Write back if you can tonight, because if you don't have a costume yet, I have an idea…

Yours, always, willingly, helplessly, deliriously—

Behemoth

 


	86. Chapter 86

> Subject: **I hear them so clearly, overtaking my thoughts, coalescing into a galvanising shiver that spreads under my skin.**
> 
> Fri, Oct 16 at 10:58 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

My dearest Behemoth,

Let me just say that if we organise our first meeting and you cancel on me because you caught a cold, I will be thoroughly unimpressed. Please, as much as I appreciate every word you send to me, take care of yourself.

The bar is called _Skalds and Sins._ It’s the best venue in Insomnia for that kind of music, fair-sized without being too big. The atmosphere is friendly, kind to newcomers; but the patrons still know how to keep to themselves. I’m joining the flyer to this email.

And I think I know what that paragraph did to you. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t hope it would indeed leave you breathless when you read it. To mirror your honesty, I’ll admit that imagining it didn’t exactly leave me unruffled. But don’t let me win too easily at this game we’re playing (see, I get it now), I’m sure some of the images flourishing in your mind can compete with mine.

I am, indeed, going to the Day of the Scourged Masquerade Ball. I am on duty though, so I’m afraid even if you’re there we might only have little time to spend together. As for costume, I am not fond of the theatricality of the event so I usually stick to a simple mask and my usual suit. But they’ve made full costumes mandatory this year. I hear it’s a fancy of the young prince.

I have an appointment with a tailor on Monday. I planned on going for the simplest costume he could suggest, but I’m obviously interested in hearing what you have to say. Always. We need to decide soon though, there's only two weeks left until the 31st and the tailors are going to be swarmed.

Blaze

 


	87. Chapter 87

 

 

(Above is a flyer which reads:

Hunters of Ifrit

Come along to the

HEAVIEST NIGHT

of the year!

First ever performance of tracks from upcoming 3rd studio album. All the classics you love headbanging to!

Saturday 24th of October at the 'Skalds and Sins'. Doors open at 8pm)

 


	88. Chapter 88

> Subject: **I'm going to whisper them so close my lips brush your ear and then you'll really know what it means to shiver**
> 
> Sat, Oct 17 at 12:06 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

I fucking adore you. You're so much fun to write to. Let's never stop, even after we meet. I want to keep distracting you when you ought to be working on lesson plans. I want you to keep distracting me when I should be training.

Okay. Sorry. Carried away. I was supposed to be writing to you about the masquerade ball.

Usually my sister and I wear matching costumes but this year she says she's too old to dress up with her big brother. Can you imagine? The brat. Who said she was allowed to grow up this fast? Anyway, she and her best friend are planning to dress as cactuars, green face paint and everything! (It's incredibly cute actually so I forgive her for ditching me.)

I know you said you'll be on duty—but I was thinking—if we can't spend the evening together, would you at least wear a matching costume with me? What about Roland and the Red Mage? They're well-known characters, no one would look at us twice… but we'd have that secret connection between us.

Maybe you’d like to dress as the Red Mage? That would fulfill, um, more than one fantasy of mine. And if I remember your reaction to the book correctly, it might fulfill some of yours too. There probably won't be any haystacks at the palace but no one will know when we're staring at each other from behind our masks and imagining the games we'll play later.

Besotted,

Behemoth

P.S. Don't worry. I don’t care if I get turned into a toad, there's no way I'm missing our meeting.

 


	89. Chapter 89

> Subject: **Just reading it… imagining how much more intense it could get is both unsettling and fascinating.**
> 
> Sat, Oct 17 at 12:51 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

My dearest Behemoth,

I would definitely enjoy if we kept writing. I want to read more about you getting carried away.

On the topic of the costumes, the idea is more appealing than I’d have first thought. I’ll make you a deal. Tell me about one of those fantasies of yours that would require me to don that Red Mage costume. In detail. Do this and I’ll wear the outfit to the Masquerade Ball. Just for you. I won’t look at you, but I’ll feel your eyes on me the whole time. And we’ll know neither of us are thinking about anything else.

Blaze

 


	90. Chapter 90

> Subject: **This much more intense (or this much more ridiculous? I can't tell anymore)**
> 
> Sat, Oct 17 at 2:48 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

You're on.

Remember in the book, how after the Red Mage drinks the enchanted wine and gets berserked, Montblanc never really explains how Roland cured him? The narrator tells us that the pirates tried healing him with Esuna, but the spell was useless. And then he says, "Only the gentle touch of Roland's hand could soothe the fury of the Red Mage, and when both emerged from the cabin on the morn, the mage was peaceful as a mu."

So, uh. Don't laugh. I've never done this before.

 

***

 

The pirates unlock the door and let me into the cabin. I can hear them turning the key behind me, bolting us both inside. It's safer that way. A normal man, berserked, is deadly enough. A man like you, who can call upon the forces of fire, ice, and lightning, must not be left unrestrained while under such a spell.

That's why they've secured you to the bed, your wrists immobile so they can't be used for incantations, your ankles fastened to each bedpost. There's a handkerchief in your mouth, too, or else you'd be summoning something dreadful right now. Your eyes are fierce crimson, inflamed with Bacchus's Wine, and your lips are peeling back from the gag in a snarl.

"Oh, beloved," I say, reaching out my hand. "Don't you know me?" It's useless, of course. If the pirate queen with all her sorcery could not heal you, then how could I hope to do so? I'm only a disgraced aristocrat, with no skills to speak of beside cardsharping and swordplay, and how I've managed to earn your love I still have no idea.

But I lie beside you anyway, my head on your shoulder, feeling your muscles racked with the ghastly magic. Your red hat is knocked rakishly to one side from your struggles, the white feather askew. I breathe slowly, my palm pressed against your chest, hoping to communicate calm and safety. I murmur softly, under my breath, meaningless words of comfort; and only after we've been lying like this for a while do I realize what I've been whispering for the past few minutes: _I love you, I love you, I love you._

And that's when I notice that your writhing has ceased, that in fact it ceased some time ago and you have been lying quietly by my side. I look up. The burgundy fury in your eyes has dissolved into their usual cut-glass clarity. I know I shouldn't, not without speaking with the pirate queen first, but I pull the handkerchief from your mouth.

"Where am I?" you ask, looking utterly confused. Then you pull on the restraints, and your eyes widen. "Have you _tied me up?"_

"Well, it was—" I begin to explain, but you interrupt.

"Kiss me!"

You needn't ask twice. I straddle you, hands sliding inside your unlaced shirt, and take your mouth in mine. You still taste of wine, a little. I'm surprised by how frantically you kiss me back. You're usually more languid. Then I feel how hard you are against me and I start to get the idea.

"You _like_ being tied up?"

"Yes," you say, chasing after my kiss, but unable to lift your head far. "Obviously. Come back here."

I run a finger across your full lower lip. "Mmm. In a moment. I'm just considering the potentialities." When you frown at me I laugh, unable to resist you any longer, and press my lips to yours again. Chest to chest, I can feel how rapidly your heart is beating. I pull away and smooth your disheveled hair from your face. "I could lie here next to you," I say thoughtfully, "and read a book, while you try to tell me a story seductive enough to interest me. I do warn you I have a very short attention span."

Your eyes are huge, your breath is coming fast. It's intoxicating to see the effect of my words on you, just as physical as a caress.

"Or I could put the handkerchief back in, and see if you could seduce me with your eyes alone."

You make a soft noise that's somewhere between a gasp and a groan.

"Or perhaps I'll entertain myself by climbing on top and riding you until I'm bored. Would you like that?"

"Oh, please," you whisper, and your hands flex in the bonds above your head.

"Patience, darling," I tell you, and move away to the trunk at the foot of the bed. Our belongings are still thankfully inside, despite the recent series of unfortunate mishaps. I find what I'm looking for and hold up the little bottle so you can see. "Elixir? It's always been my favorite."

You don't speak, staring at me, wetting your lips. It's as if I don't even need the handkerchief to compel your silence, you're so eager to submit willingly. I unfasten my breeches and let the silken fabric fall around my feet, then step out of them and sit at the end of the bed, facing you, legs spread. I hitch one knee up to my chest.

"See anything you like?" I lick at my forefinger, slowly, while I hold your gaze, and by the time I start sucking on it you're writhing almost as energetically as you did under the influence of the spell.

"Stop," you breathe; but when I do, you amend, "Don't stop," and I carry on, bringing my wet finger between my legs while a grin spreads on my face and you pull fruitlessly against your bonds.

"You're as debauched as I," you say, huskily. "I've corrupted you."

"You have," I reply, pitilessly, and pour a good amount of elixir into my open palm. The display I put on next is, I admit, rather unseemly. It knocks the speech from your lungs. You simply watch, not even struggling anymore, as I fuck myself shamelessly and you can't even touch me.

Eventually I have mercy, and anyway I've worked myself up by now and I want you inside me. I free you from your trousers and crawl up your body, sampling your pleasures as I go, and I am pleased, when I finally arrive at your mouth, to see how black and greedy your eyes are, to enjoy your ravenous kisses again. "Ready for me?" I ask, and breathlessly you beg, "Always, always," and then I settle myself upon you and am rewarded with a remarkable expression on your face as your entire body arches to meet me.

I told you I would ride you until I was bored but it's quite the opposite emotion that pushes us both over the brink far too fast, you thrusting inside me as I'm still putting on a show for you, stroking myself and throwing my head back in exaggerated but wholly honest lust. When I finally free you from your bonds, we are both sticky, sweating, and marvelously happy. And the next morning, the pirates cheer as we emerge from our cabin, hand in hand, miraculously cured.

 

***

 

I can't believe I stayed up till almost three, writing a filthy story about the Red Mage. I used to be respectable, Blaze! What have you done to me?

Sordid and yawning,

Behemoth

P.S. Now I want to hear the fantasy you demurred to share the other day. It can't be any sillier or more embarrassing than this.

 


	91. Chapter 91

> Subject: **None of your words would ever sound ridiculous to me. As for what others would think, there’s no need to concern ourselves with such speculations. This is about the two of us. No one else.**
> 
> Sat, Oct 17 at 11:52 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

My dearest Behemoth,

I woke this morning with you in my thoughts, as often of late. I think I might have been dreaming about you. I don’t remember the dream, but I know it left me rather bothered. I couldn’t help but reach for my phone in hope of finding one of your letters - although I know you don’t usually write that late into the night. Imagine how delighted I was to find that story waiting for me.

Ridiculous? Oh dear astrals, no. Intense? You already know it was. I lay there in bed on my side, devouring your fantasy, basking in it. Calming my morning desires the way I usually do was impossible. I could feel so much just from reading, listening to your whispered words in my mind.

But if you want the truth, although the story got me most of the way there, it’s not what truly threw me over the edge. I couldn’t get it out of my head. The image of you, sitting there in the early hours of the morning, writing that story I asked of you, typing those words away just for me. I could imagine your pants getting progressively tighter as you wrote, and yet, you wouldn’t stop, just pause for a few short instants to palm yourself through the fabric, trying to find some semblance of relief. Still, you kept going until you were done, using your own desires and frustration to spur you on, to give me all I requested from you. It was your name on my lips when I came, not Roland.

I remember back when we started talking about our fantasies, you said you were used to being in control, that there was nothing erotic about it. I wondered at the time if maybe it was because there was little reward in it for you, and I might have hoped - deep down in jumbled half-formulated thoughts - that you could find something to like if it was with me.

I never allow anyone to control me. I’m stubborn about it to a fault. But with you… With you, I feel I could surrender to a look, a twitch of your fingers. Don’t get me wrong, I also love the idea of tying you up and keeping you at my mercy, to see you writhe in frustration and longing, to make you beg.

But I think about you binding me to the bed, and heat flares up in my mind, simmer under my skin. The thought of letting you do as you please, knowing I can trust you this much… it’s mesmerising. And I want it. All of it.

I love that there’s room for both in our fantasies, that we seem to naturally find a balance that gives us all we wish for. Control and submission. Respect and strength. Care and tenderness. It’s telling, isn’t it? That our reveries are so varied, yet match each other so well.

I will tell you this fantasy of mine tonight when I get home. I’ve already lingered on this for too long when I should be working.

And I could ask you the same. What have you done to me? Not so long ago I would have frowned at the idea of writing personal correspondence of this nature on my work break. Shiva, I would have frowned at the idea of taking a work break. I used to be a hardworking and dedicated adviser. Look at me now. Strangely, I can’t bring myself to mind. I was nearly late for work this morning; it never happened before and it was absolutely worth it.

Until tonight,

Blaze

 


	92. Chapter 92

> Subject: **I wish I could open my eyes and see you lying next to me. So you could reach for me instead of your phone.**
> 
> Sat, Oct 17 at 4:56 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

I slept until noon. When I woke the house was empty. I brought a cup of coffee back to bed and read your letter slowly, savoring each word. _Your name on my lips when I came…_ that sent me over the edge. Blaze. I want to see your face when you come.

I took the long route down to the fashion district. First through East Gate Park, orange and golden leaves crunching underfoot. I walked past the hunters' co-op but didn't go in. I thought of looking for your park bench, and the idea made me oddly superstitious, as if I'd somehow jinx us, so I didn't. But you'll have to take me there one day.

Then I walked along the waterfront, watching the gulls swoop and dive. Most of the farmers had already packed up their booths, but there were a few still selling their last boxes of vegetables. I bought some alstrooms and pearl onions and tucked them into an inside pocket of my coat. I want to make Retta's stew again. Maybe tomorrow, when it's overcast and windy and the kitchen is such a pleasant place to be. I'll teach my sister how to make a bouquet garni, she'll like that.

I was a little late for my appointment at the tailor's, but it was a madhouse anyway. Everyone was getting fitted for costumes. I'm assuming your letter this morning was a yes, so I went ahead and asked for Roland.

I think anything would be fun with you. I know that sounds like a line, like empty flattery, but it's not. If it's an idea of yours, then I’m interested already, before you even give me the details. Anything that sparks your lust is a flame to mine, because you're what turns me on. You and your gorgeous mind and all its quirks and fantasies.

Until tonight. Just think—when we say that again, a week from today, it won't be fantasy but reality.

All my desire,

Behemoth

 


	93. Chapter 93

> Subject: **Soon. I hope.**
> 
> Sat, Oct 17 at 11:47 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

My dearest Behemoth,

I find it fascinating how we are so close, yet so far away from each other. I know all those places you mentioned; I could retrace your steps so precisely your shadow would linger in front of me. And still, it feels like we’re trapped on different sides of a looking glass, our worlds perfect mirror images of each other, running a parallel course that should forever keep us apart.

It feels daring and risky to break the glass barrier between us. If feels like we could cut ourselves deep doing so. But I want nothing more. None of that matter if I get to have you in the end, if I can reach for you instead of my phone.

I promised to tell you about that fantasy of mine. I didn’t thus far because it felt too personal. After everything we’ve shared, you must find it surprising that there’s still such a thing. But it’ll make sense if I admit that this is both an idea that fascinates and terrifies me all at once.

Remember what I said about my work involving making contingency plans for contingency plans, about my mind being too rational and this sometimes being a curse? Evaluating, planning, finding strategies that shouldn’t be possible and yet work, this is what I do and in a way it’s also who I am.

Most days, it feels great. You said you’re exceedingly good at what you do, so I hope you’ll understand that as conceited as it sounds, this is true for me also. Most days, I feel - I know - I’m the smartest person in the room, I know I am four steps ahead everybody else, I have perfect control over people and the environment I move in. It’s exhilarating. And frankly, exhausting.

Maintaining that kind of mastery over my world is a perpetual uphill battle that I can never truly take a break from. I told you I wear glasses, didn’t I? I don’t really need them. They do improve my sight marginally, but I can function easily without them. And yet, I need them. Want them. The idea of missing a crucial detail, of not noticing a vital clue, of slowing down my thoughts for only an instant, is frightening to me.

Sorry if I bore you with all this. But if I only flatly described that fantasy of mine, you’d probably struggle to grasp what it is truly about.

Anyway, the human mind is so shaped that it likes to dream of the impossible. So I long for a respite. But not just a few hours alone or together with you in one of those fantasies we so lovingly imagined.

I want the choice to be taken away from me, my ability to reason to be impaired. I want - simply put - an edge of fear that will strip control away and make me feel precariously alive.

How absurd does this sound? Especially from me who’s been talking so much about absolute trust.

You need to understand, in this fantasy, the source of that fear is never you. Never. The fantasy requires that you’re there to make me feel safe so I can allow it to happen.

I thought about it for the longest time, what I’d wish I could do if I had someone I could trust enough to allow me to explore this desire of mine, all the ways to shut down my mind, to make rational thoughts irrelevant.

It’s a very clinical term ‘sensory deprivation.’ But imagining it does things to me I can’t quite describe. Without all its usual information at its disposal, I can already feel the gears in my head grind to a halt with a dusty cloud that taste of panic and foreboding.

I guess the easiest way of achieving this is a simple blindfold. Simple and yet so difficult, so utterly terrifying when I picture it. And despite all this, I know how much I want it without even knowing if I could stand it.

When we talked about your beard the other day… I could imagine it so well. How I would just lie there, let you do what you want with me, how I’d feel you shift and I wouldn’t know what would touch me next. The softness of your lips. The rousing combination of calluses and supple skin of your hands. The rough caress of your beard. The burning hardness of your cock. I imagined how electrifying it would be, how anticipation would build up and make me jerk at the slightest contact, how it wouldn’t matter anymore where or how you’d touch me, just that you’d take pity on me and give me something to anchor myself to. All I’d want would be to feel you, in any way you’d allow. Every second without you would burn white in my mind, whispering tales of terror and abandon and loneliness. But then you’d touch me again. More intense every time. Until it swallowed me whole. Until I forgot about fear. About vulnerability. About doing what my rational mind would call the wrong thing and yet having it taste so good.

You wouldn’t say anything, you’d just do as you please. You’d taste the sweat on my skin, the taste of fear morphing into desire there, the resistance and the lust so entwined I wouldn’t be able to pry them from each other. And you would take me apart, strand by strand, until I knew the difference, until I wished for nothing but you.

Am I making any sense? I don’t know any more. I wish you were here. You’d hold me, tell me it’s okay, that we can take the time we need to figure it out. And I’d bury my face in the crook of your neck, breathe you in and it’d feel like home.

If nothing else, I want this. Promise me.

Blaze

 


	94. Chapter 94

> Subject: **I promise**
> 
> Sun, Oct 18, at 10:36 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

As I said I would, I bought a silk scarf yesterday when I was down in the fashion district. I'm running it through my hands now, thinking about your letter. One simple length of fabric, light as a cloud, that can be put to so many purposes.

You said once that I was a being of contradictions. You are, too. You eroticize domesticity but also fear. It interests me but it feels like playing with fire. There are violent images in your letter: mirror shards that cut, impairment and panic and abandonment.

I wish you were here, Blaze. I would put my arms around you and listen. We'd figure it out together. If this is something you want, then I want to give it to you.

I've tread lightly, this letter, because it's clear this is a topic of deep emotional significance. If I've misstepped, please tell me.

With absolute trust,

Behemoth

 


	95. Chapter 95

> Subject: **How lovely you are…**
> 
> Sun, Oct 18 at 11:18 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

My dearest Behemoth,

You are so very kind and careful, you’re making me feel guilty. I didn’t mean to come across as over-dramatic. And I certainly won’t break easily, I promise you. You don’t have to treat me as if I was made of glass. Did I scare you a little with that monologue of mine? I’m sorry if I did; it was not my intent. I do get carried away easily; you have to forgive me, there’s just never been anyone I could broach this kind of topic with. Being able to do so with you is cathartic and exciting.

In essence, all I meant was that there is something about strong emotions, emotions one cannot control, that I find fascinating. It’s a way of learning about oneself that can hardly be matched by reason alone. And if one can learn to control said emotions or at least see past them, one may grow in character and spirit. This is an ever tantalising prospect for me.

And fear is potent in that way. But I’m sure it’s not the only mean we could come up with to fulfil that fancy of mine.

I do not wish to make you uncomfortable though. Ever. It’s hardly a need, just curiosity on my part, as odd as it might sound. And if it doesn’t meet with your approval, it’ll be easily forgotten.

Still, playing with fire, you say. Maybe you’re right. Being careful is good, reasonable. And most days that’s what I’d stick to. But some nights, some nights I also think risking to get burnt a little might bring its own rewards.

It’s so typical of me, isn’t it? Fantasising about not having to overthink everything, and overthinking the fantasy by trying to analyse why it’s there, inside of me, in the first place.

I guess I’ll need you to tell me to stop once in a while. That might work too, since I’m strangely eager to do your bidding. You might get my mind to stop spinning just by wishing it. I should be worried about that power you have over me; yet, I’m not. I just want to experience it closer, intimately. I guess that’s what trust is.

I’ve learnt so much about myself thanks to you. Those emotions I never thought I was capable of, invading my mind. Words I would have never believed myself capable of saying rushing out just for you. Desires so forbidden I ignored them until you made them flare. I can’t wait to see what else our meeting might bring.

Yours,

Blaze

 


	96. Chapter 96

> Subject: **Five days**
> 
> Mon, Oct 19, at 8:44 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hey, I know you're tough. If I treat you like glass it's only because you're precious to me. And I don’t think you were being overdramatic. Your fantasy makes perfect sense. It's not that I don't find it arousing, either—I mean, the idea of blindfolding you is hot as hell—it's just… there was an ominous tone to your letter, Blaze, and it worried me. Are you all right? How's your job?

Maybe I'm the one who's being overdramatic. Everyone at work has been on edge lately, and it's beginning to wear on me. You've probably noticed that I tend to optimism. It's difficult to maintain that when surrounded by harbingers of trouble. And somewhat exhausting.

And maybe—I'm nervous about meeting you, too. Saturday suddenly seems so close. You're so clever and full of words and quick to judge. I've only showed you the best side of myself in these letters. I'm not like this in real life, Blaze. I'm gruff, I'm not good at talking. What if you decide I'm boring? What if you spend five minutes in my company and realize I really am the dumb jock that everyone thinks I am?

Don't think I'm getting cold feet—I'm not. I can't _wait_ to meet you. But I promised I would always be honest with you, even if it's embarrassing (and believe me, nervousness is not something that I would ever admit to anyone but you). I love how you push my boundaries. I love that we can share this kind of honesty. I just hope I don't disappoint you.

But that's enough of that. I don't know what's made me so introspective. Is the moon in Leviathan or something? Your letter was so delicious, too—don't imagine I didn't respond to your inviting words. They made my mouth water. Someday, in some quiet room, I'll beckon you forward with a simple gesture and ask you to give me your control. And then we'll find out if I can silence your rationality for a while.

Did you have your tailor's appointment today? What did you decide to dress as? I think you'd make a charming Tonberry.

(I'm joking, of course. I want you to wear the Red Mage costume to the ball. I want to make eye contact with you across the dance floor and know you're imagining me tying you to the bed and making excruciatingly slow love to you all night long.)

Always,

Behemoth

 


	97. Chapter 97

> Subject: **So I’m not the only one counting.**
> 
> Tue, Oct 20 at 2:01 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

My dearest Behemoth,

Your perceptiveness might prove dangerous to me. I’m used to working hard, not really to thinking about the toll it takes on me. Am I all right? I believe so. Mostly because our fast approaching meeting keeps me sane - worried and excited, yes, but sane.

Work is… Work is difficult. We haven’t had any good news for a while now. And it’s taking a toll on the family, my student included. He’s broody at the best of times, but lately, he’s been both angry and uncommunicative. I don’t like seeing him so withdrawn. There’s little I can do to ease his burden, however, nor can I erase the responsibilities that are his to shoulder. If I’m perfectly honest, and while I know it’s irrational, I have been feeling guilty for getting so much happiness and pleasure out of your letters, all while the rest of the world seems to be so fraught with pain and violence.

Sometimes, it feels as if seeking balance and connection in this kind of world is foolish, maybe even sacrilegious. But then I read your words again, and they resonate so true within me, that I can’t stop myself from believing there’s something growing between us it’d be unforgivable not to welcome.

That fantasy of mine mostly rears its head when I feel control slipping through my fingers, often when I’m exhausted, as I was when I described it to you. I’d have never believed someone could read so much in my words, but you seem able to although I don’t fully understand how. It is somewhat unnerving, makes me wonder what you’ll see when you look at me face to face. I’m not used to people being able to see beyond the facade I wish to present. The idea that you could makes me anxious.

But maybe I need this… maybe I need you to read me like an open book, to know what I need and what I feel. Maybe we both need this.

I’m getting carried away again. I can’t stop thinking about Saturday. Of course, I look forward to it, but my fears are similar to yours. You say I’m quick to judge… while it’s true, you also taught me how dangerous that was, remember? Don’t think I forgot. I haven’t forgotten one word you wrote to me.

I think of all those letters and how much we have changed each other through nothing but words. You made me doubt what I thought was impeccable intuition and question my judgement. I made you learn the merit of introspection and the quietness of mind it can bring.

I can’t wait to see what we’ll do next.

I had to cancel my tailor appointment. I’m writing this still at work. I doubt I’ll make it home tonight. But I have rescheduled it for the morning. I’ll make sure not to miss it.

I’ve phoned and told them about the Red Mage today, so they can at least source the fabric. I won’t leave Roland to face the insanity of a royal masquerade on his own. You have my word.

I’ll miss the privacy of my room to read your letters again before falling asleep. But I’ll console myself by picturing all that is yet to come for us.

Thinking of you,

Blaze

 


	98. Chapter 98

> Subject: **Oh hell no!**
> 
> Tue, Oct 20 at 11:59 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

I'm sorry to hear that work's been rough lately. I know how important your job is to you.

Don't let my understanding of the subtext make you anxious. You put it there for a reason. I'm no mind reader, I'm only listening to the words you choose. And I think—although it might feel dangerous—you also desperately want and need someone who asks if you're okay, who gives you the time and space to slow down and take a breath. Someone to be fiercely protective of you.

You deserve to be happy, Blaze. And no one ever tells you that, do they? It makes me furious, that you should feel guilty for such a small taste of happiness. I want to give you everything you've been denied, all the reassurance and peace and pleasure that's missing in your life. I know I'm taking too much on myself, I know I’m being grandiose to say such things, but I want— I just want to give you everything.

It's true, you have changed me. And I remember all your words too. A while back, we were talking about fate. I wonder— this is hazy late-night speculation, so don't laugh, but— are you my catalyst? I could so easily have missed your ad in the paper. If I hadn't been lingering over my coffee that Sunday morning with nothing better to do than read the classified section. And if I had missed your ad, how different would I be today? Still frustrated and lonely. I wonder how you've changed the course of my life already, in just a couple of months, and how that could affect events to come.

And here I am philosophizing like some kid in a university dorm room. That much, I'll tell you, is not new. But I've always kept those rambles to myself. Lucky you! You get to enjoy the odd wanderings of my sleepy brain.

Which reminds me that you're probably exhausted after pulling an all-nighter. I hope you gave yourself an early night after that. You better not be reading this when I send it. Forgive me for treating you like glass again, but if I knew where you lived I'd knock on your door some evening with a bowl of ramen and express instructions to eat and have a nice long sleep. I have the feeling you don't get enough of either. (I know, you're an adult and you can take care of yourself. You can smack me in the face when we meet for being so presumptuous. Four days!)

Mm, no, I have a better idea.

 

***

 

You stay at the office overnight, working. When you finally get home the next evening, you fall straight into bed, a deep and dreamless sleep. You wake at the stroke of midnight, as you always do, no matter how exhausted.

That's when I get your text. I’m not in bed yet. I’m curled up on the windowsill, a book open on my lap, but my gaze turned towards the skyline—thinking of you, as always.

It's not a long walk to the financial district, but it's bitterly cold. The wind is whipping the branches overhead, and passersby move briskly, scarves pulled tight over their faces. It exhilarates me.

Your apartment is dark when I let myself inside. I slip quietly into your bed, not wanting to wake you if you've dropped off again. But you stir and reach for me, putting an arm around my waist, pulling me close. Your skin's so warm from being burrowed under the blankets. I absorb it greedily, pressing my chilled face into your neck, and you murmur sleepily, tangling your fingers in my hair, seeking my lips. I love the way you kiss me, half-asleep, so soft and guileless.

Want to finish this one? What happens next, Blaze?

With longing,

Behemoth

 


	99. Chapter 99

> Subject: **Damn it. I want you so bad.**
> 
> Wed, Oct 21 at 1:21 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

I don’t know what to call you anymore… even ‘my dearest’ doesn’t seem to do you justice. I’ll try all those words one day face to face, and you’ll laugh at me. Until I find the ones that sound right and perfect, the ones that’ll make you shiver just so. You’ll be mine a little more with each one.

So, dearest, my dearest, do you have any idea what your words do to me?

And before you get mad at me for answering tonight, I have slept all evening. But as you mentioned in your letter (not a mindreader you say? try again), my body clock refuses to consider evening sleep as being part of the night so I woke up a little while ago. I’ll go back to sleep in a bit, but first, I need to complete that fantasy of yours.

I probably shouldn’t be doing this. I’m still tired enough to feel muzzy - almost intoxicated, but part of the blame is for you to bear, I wasn’t planning on ending up in such an unsettled state, unreasonably combining arousal and exhaustion. Your letter left me with little choice.

Don’t blame fate, that one is on you. But I like the idea of being your catalyst, I’ll be the only one you’ll ever have if I get any say in it. Imagining how easily we could have passed each other without even being aware of what we’d just lost is frightening. It makes me wish for you to be here, your hands, your mouth on me. So I can feel you and know you’re real. And mine. Always mine.

I should hate the idea of anyone being protective of me. I’ve fiercely cultivated my independence and strength for so long, the idea of it should be upsetting. But if it’s you… if it’s you, I just want private moments in your arms where nothing matters but that embrace around me and the haven it gifts me. Sometimes I believe you know sorceries with all you make me feel that I never would have believed possible.

But let’s get to the core of the matter… You want me to tell you what happens next? Well, let me take my computer to bed and dim the lights so I can picture you there near me and narrate it. All you make me feel. This is going to take a while and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.

So… where were we? Oh yes…

 

***

 

I lie in an empty space hanging between sleep and consciousness. The mattress dips behind me and my mind sluggishly rolls back into awareness. Your weight, the way you move, your scent, it’s all so familiar I could recognise them among thousands. I don’t need to look but I know you’ll quietly rest beside me if you think I’m asleep.

I want more. So I turn around, pull you towards me. My hand slides over your side, around to your back, the vast muscle planes there, firm and smooth under my fingers. And warm. But you hide your face in my neck and I can feel how cold the tip of your nose is, your forehead, even your lips.

Kissing you is easy. Instinctive. It always is. We fit together like pieces of a jigsaw. The hardest part is to have to come apart again. There’s relief in letting the heat of your mouth invade mine. It’s only been a few hours, and yet, it’s been so long. Too long.

I thought you might have been asleep when I sent that text message. I am so glad you weren’t.

‘You came,’ I say softly against your lips. You answer something that sounds like ‘always,’ but I can’t be sure because I’m kissing you again, swallowing syllables as they form on your tongue. It’s not enough. I want more. I don’t care how messy it gets, I want to feel you tense against me as your body awakes.

I twirl your hair around my fingers, use the grip to tilt your head back. I bite your tongue, gently, yet enough that you let out a sound that mimics a growl and makes me laugh.

Your lips are warm against mine now, but when your hand brushes the side of my neck, I shy away, startled. So cold. There’s barely any light in the room, just enough to see the smile tugging at your mouth. You knew exactly what you were doing.

I could chastise you but I have better plans. I take your hand, put it between my thighs, keep it there snuggled. I shiver at the contact, but the chill disappears quickly. I can feel heat spreading between us.

’So fucking hot,’ you groan. I don’t know if you’re talking about my skin or my boldness. I don’t particularly care. I’m not letting you put that other icy hand of yours on me. Not like this. So I take it, bring it to my lips. I blow on the palm, lick at it, before taking your fingertips in my mouth, one after the other, tonguing them, biting them to get blood flowing again.

You don’t resist. You’re staring as if you’d forgotten how to blink. It’s a good look on you. Still, you try for a semblance of control.

‘I thought you were tired,’ you say. I laugh. Your hand is so much warmer already. I press it against my cheek before I answer. Your thumb strokes my cheekbone.

‘I’m exhausted. But I’ve missed you.’ You always answer this the same way. Always lean in to kiss me, soft and intent. Always look at me with dark, thoughtful eyes. Always say ‘I've missed you too.’

But then you pull back a bit, shift us a touch, so I lie on my back. You’re so close, half-hanging over me.

‘Shall we help you get back to sleep?’ Your tone is gentle but the humour in it is easy to hear.

‘We better,’ I answer anyway.

That’s all you need to shift the hand still trapped between my thighs. You don’t pull it out, just tease it high enough to make my eyes flutter.

We both know I don’t have the energy to take this very far. But we also know short and intense can be good. So very good. I arc up against you, and you push back just a touch, just enough to bring our bodies in contact, skin warm, already a touch damp.

’So damn impatient,’ you whisper against my lips. I’m not letting your mouth stray far. I don’t answer, simply arc into you again. You push me back down. There’s no time for teasing tonight. I part my legs enough that you can put your knee between them for support as you line our bodies up just right. My hands are still in your hair. I let one trail down, stroke your beard. I anchor myself to you and let you work. You’re so very good at this.

Time swells and swirls with the touch and grip of your skilled fingers. You’re so hard against me. I never get tired of feeling how much you want this. Us.

I rest my forehead against your temple, let my teeth graze your jaw when I come. It’s sudden and short-lived. And exactly what I needed. You always know exactly what I need. I come back to myself just in time to feel you still, bite your lips and shake almost imperceptibly. I never get tired of seeing this either. Your face lost in pleasure. Nothing is cold anymore.

‘I love you so much,’ I say in your ear. You have no breath left for words, but you close your eyes and press your face in my neck again. It’s answer enough.

Sleep comes easily after that.

 

***

 

I’ll probably be quite embarrassed come morning by all I wrote here. But I can’t bring myself to care right now, I am too tired and too uninhibited to even try to be proper. I have a feeling you’ll enjoy this letter anyway.

Waiting to be yours in more than words,

Blaze

 


	100. Chapter 100

> Subject: **So much it hurts**
> 
> Thu, Oct 22 at 12:06 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

The first thing I did this morning was reach for my phone, and I read your letter twice. Quickly, hungrily. Then again, slower, as I stroked myself to the rhythm of your words; and I came at the same time we did in your story. I was late to work, but it was worth it.

All day long I've been dreaming of you. Not any of our fantasies. Just a kiss. Such a small thing. And it's all I can think of. Your beautiful mouth. Our lips together. The bare tip of your tongue against mine. It makes shivers break all over my skin, just as every time you say _dearest._ Every time you say _mine._ You twitch a finger—or a word—and my whole body responds, involuntarily, aching for your touch.

I am no poet, Blaze. But tonight the lighting is crackling against the Wall and my room is lit with intermittent flashes. It makes me reckless. I wrote this for you.

 

***

 

It's been raining since six o'clock. Steady waves against the window glass.

If I live to be a hundred years, it will still always make me think of you,

My flame at midnight, my starry sky, my sleepless night, my Blaze.

The texture of a piece of newspaper, torn on two sides, with the mark of a pin

Through the center. The eye of a storm—a wild blur of confetti and dancers,

Cheers loud enough to wake the gods, while I stare into a glass of wine

And dream of you. Tangled, silk at my wrists and velvet crushed against my cheek.

We trade our stories like currency. Your fantasies are my sun and moon,

The clock by which I wake and which I sleep. Your words are the first I read each morning,

The last I read each night. I can hear the cadence of your voice when I close my eyes.

It rises and falls, rises and falls, like wind in a storm, like rain on the glass.

Night has fallen, the window glass becomes a mirror. Past my face I see the rain.

If I live to be a hundred years, it will still always make me think of you,

My flame at midnight, my starry sky, my sleepless night, my Blaze.

 


	101. Chapter 101

> Subject: **Remind me why we’re not running to Tenebrae to write poetry in cafes?**
> 
> Thu, Oct 22 at 12:54 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

My dearest Behemoth,

I was quite upset with you this morning. Not because of the wild words I wrote last night; I take full responsibility for those.

No, I got quite upset because having written most of it in a daze and fallen asleep shortly afterwards, my mind was still firmly entrenched in the fantasy when I woke up this morning. I was half-asleep and I reached for you. The mattress was empty with no trace of the warmth your body had to have imbued into it. And I wondered where you’d gone so early. I was somewhat vexed that you would leave me like that to wake up feeling lonely and cold just from recalling how hot we’d burnt only a few hours before.

It took me a while to remember. You weren’t there. You hadn’t ever been there. I hadn’t sent you a teasing message the night before telling you how warm and inviting you’d find my bed if you came over. I wasn’t very impressed with reality by that point. I can’t wait for Saturday night.

I went back to the tailor today on my way home. They’ve done good work already. The outfit is a lot flashier than what I usually wear, I feel quite self-conscious in it. All that red. But it’s coming together well. I think you’ll like it.

I worked for a while after dinner and when I looked up your email was there. I read it, basked in your words. My fingers came to rest on my lips when you described that gentle kiss so perfectly. I might be wearing the mage costume to the ball, but you are the ones whose sorceries have been taking over my life and causing me to act before I even realise what I’m doing.

And that poem… the shivers I got reading it. I could almost feel your breath murmuring the words against my ear, the heat of your body there in the empty room besides me. I keep on thinking, feeling, you’re there with me. I don’t understand why. I just know I want it so much. I’ve engraved the poem in my mind, I can see your words glowing softly on the inside of my eyelids. I am going to go to the roof and tell it to the storm, then I’ll tell the lighting and thunder how inadequate they are compared to you. How they vociferate so loudly, yet don’t truly know what passion is. Maybe the wind will carry your words back to you. Its embrace is all I’ll get tonight, maybe it’ll be kind to us. Maybe if you crack open the window you’ll hear it whisper in my voice, ‘I love you, my Behemoth, I love you.’

Your Blaze

 


	102. Chapter 102

> Subject: **Never in my life have I been so tempted to abandon my duty**
> 
> Thu, Oct 22 at 7:22 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

My love, my Blaze—

Please accept my deepest apologies for leaving so early, even if only in a dream. There's no excuse for such loutish behavior. First I climb into your bed in the middle of the night and steal your warmth, then I slip away and leave you lonely and cold! Pressing your own fingers to your lips. Let me take that hand and press it to my lips instead.

I picked up my costume this afternoon. Roland is a much simpler costume than the Red Mage, of course. I can't wait to see you in yours. Perhaps then I can take your hand in reality and press it to my lips—even gloved, it would be an unrivaled pleasure—or more daringly, perhaps you'll allow me to remove that glove and kiss your bare wrist. The masquerade will be a chaos of revelry and half the attendees will be drunk. Surely no one will notice such a small gesture—but not small for us.

I'm getting ahead of myself. The ball's still more than a week away but our first meeting is in two days. Two days! It's hard to believe it's really happening. We should exchange phone numbers, right? In case we can't find each other at the bar? Mine is 744353-452346.

I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait. I miss you so much. I'm looking forward to finally meeting you.

Your Behemoth

P.S. Crack open your window now and you'll hear me whispering it back.

P.P.S. I love you.

 


	103. Chapter 103

> Subject: **Crazy night again…**
> 
> Fri, Oct 23 at 1:54 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

My dearest Behemoth,

I just wanted to drop you a line to say I’m thinking of you, but I’m too buried in work to do much else.

I reminded my student today that his best friend’s birthday was in three days and asked him if he had sorted a present. He got that blank look of horror on his face that spelled trouble. So we’re now leaving early morning to go scout facilities operating a breeding and reintroduction program of wild chocobos (his friend loves chocobos) to see if it would be a suitable outing for the big day. As you can imagine, the overall result is that I have to do now all the work I had planned to do tomorrow.

But I’m weak and can’t say no to him when he’s truly begging.

In love and dreams,

Blaze

 


	104. Chapter 104

 

 

(Above is a note which reads:

Amicitia,

Apologies for the note but I’ve misplaced my phone this morning. His Highness is running behind schedule. Unsurprisingly. I’ve had to displace your training session from 3 to 4 this afternoon. Make him apologise for the inconvenience if you wish. That one is on him. Regards, Ignis Scientia)

 


	105. Chapter 105

> Subject: **Re: Crazy night again…**
> 
> Fri, Oct 23 at 2:36 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hi Blaze,

This is really weird, but when I got back from lunch this afternoon there was a note on my desk from one of my coworkers. I mean the note wasn't weird, it was just about work stuff, but his handwriting looks exactly like yours. Identical.

The thing is, he's a tutor…

 

**WARNING: This message has not been sent and contains unsaved changes.**

 


	106. Chapter 106

> Subject: **You won’t believe what happened to me.**
> 
> Fri, Oct 23 at 3:14 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

My dearest Behemoth,

My day has been rather ridiculous so far. I’ve decided it was a sign from the Astrals that I got to spend all my bad luck today, so tomorrow can go perfectly.

As I mentioned in my email last night, my student and I left very early for the chocobo breeding facility. It was a lovely ride. I’ve spent too much time locked inside office buildings lately. Being able to drive at dawn like this, watch pink hues colour the horizon and gradually turn into crimson red with each passing mile, leaving the Wall behind; it felt liberating. My mind kept drifting towards you, towards that camping fantasy we had, and how much I’d enjoy sharing such a peaceful daybreak together.

It was only a half hour drive past the city gates, so not really the wilderness we have dreamed of but still a nice change of pace. The chocobos were lovely. They had many kind, but my favourite was a subspecies of miniature chocobos I’d never seen before. So fluffy and quicksilver fast. They fly much better than the regular-sized ones as well, truly graceful creatures.

My student seemed to enjoy the outing and he was getting very excited at the prospect of taking his friend there next week. I told you how sullen he’s been lately, so seeing him so carefree and happy was endearing. It definitely made the late night work worth it.

How is any of this bad luck, you must wonder. Well, that’s when things took a turn.

The keepers gave us a tour of the facilities and then we took one of their all-terrain buggies to go deeper into the forest and have a look at the birds they’d already released into the wild.

We got into the undergrowth, turned the engine off and waited. The birds are used to getting occasional supplemental feeds from the keepers so we knew they would come along eventually. We waited for a good ten minutes but nothing was happening. It was nice there in the shade. My student was asking questions and as I listened to the answers, I took my phone out to catch up on work emails, since unfortunately those never stop.

I barely had the time to see I had no signal than one of those miniature chocobos - the little fluffy devil - flew to the side of the buggy, landing on the top of the side door, right by my side. We froze for a few seconds. I looked at it and it looked at me. It had wide yellow eyes. And then it leant in, plucked my phone out of my hand and took off before I even registered what it’d done. It was out of sight in a blink; their feathers camouflage them really well in the forest.

The keeper told us they like shiny objects and steal them to decorate their nest. He said they’d keep an eye out for it but that I’d probably never see my phone again.

My student made fun of me all the way back. ‘That’s what you get for never taking a break,’ he said. After I worked all night to go out with him this morning. The brat. But he was still laughing, so I brushed it off.

Anyway, we got back to Insomnia and I went to see the family quartermaster to get an emergency replacement I could restore all my data on. I was then informed that there’d been budget cuts, and they couldn’t get me a phone until tomorrow. But they could lend me a pager.

A pager.

I don’t know what that man thinks I do, probably sees me as some kind of domestic who has no other responsibilities but to be at the beck and call of those he serves.

Of course by then, it was midday and when I tried to inform my colleagues of my predicament they were all out of their office on their lunch break. I got reduced to leaving handwritten notes all over the place. Remember when we discussed how exciting it must have been to live under Queen Beza? Well, let me tell you, it might have been exciting, but writing everything on paper is not efficient. I’d definitely miss technology if I got transported to that time.

I should get a new phone by tomorrow lunchtime and will text you the number then. Sorry for the delay. I should be rather annoyed by what happened, but having a story to make you laugh makes up for it. And all my thoughts are turned to tomorrow. It seems I’ve worked enough last night that I have little left to do today but daydream about us. It’s rather pleasant. I dare say nothing could dampen my mood.

See you tomorrow. All my love,

Blaze

 


	107. Chapter 107

> Subject: **Re: You won’t believe what happened to me.**
> 
> Fri, Oct 23 at 3:47 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Blaze, I don't know how to say this. I just keep typing and deleting. I found out who you are. Not on purpose, it was an accident. You left me a note—I recognized your writing right away but I kept telling myself I must be mistaken—and then you sent that email and I knew for sure.

I'm Amicitia. You know, Noct's trainer with annoying ideas about nutrition! Isn't that a funny coincidence

 

**WARNING: This message has not been sent and contains unsaved changes.**

 


	108. Chapter 108

> Subject: **Re: You won’t believe what happened to me.**
> 
> Fri, Oct 23 at 5:43 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hi Blaze,

I just finished a training session with my student. Delayed, actually, so I'm off work a bit later than usual. I probably should have mentioned before that my student is Prince Noctis. Which makes him your student as well.

Maybe I should have figured this out sooner. But you kept talking about your company! I thought you were some corporate type working downtown. And you said you had brown hair! Blaze, my hair is brown. I would have called yours blond, almost ash gray sometimes…

And once—I always thought of you as Noct's skinny tutor, strapped into a perfectly pressed suit, but I remember once I saw you in the gym. It must have been at least a year ago. And I thought, Shiva, that guy's arms... hiding them like that is a goddamn sin. I'd forgotten until now…

 

**WARNING: This message has not been sent and contains unsaved changes.**

 


	109. Chapter 109

> Subject: **Re: You won’t believe what happened to me.**
> 
> Fri, Oct 23 at 7:32 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hey, Blaze! Hope you’re well. Funny thing, it seems there’s no easy way to tell your coworker that you’ve been anonymously sexting him for the past two months

psefrp sief lsdjlhsdflld

Oh for fuck’s sake

 

**WARNING: This message has not been sent and contains unsaved changes.**

 


	110. Chapter 110

> Subject: **Re: You won’t believe what happened to me.**
> 
> Fri, Oct 23 at 9:08 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Blaze— Love—

I've been trying to write this email all afternoon. All night. But each time I think I've found the right words, I unfold your note and my heart sinks. All the lovely notes you've written me, and this is the one to pierce me the deepest. I remember you sitting across from me at the Moon Festival. You staring at your phone, and me staring at my glass of wine. If only we'd looked up! But we've never bothered to really look at each other, have we? I always thought you were cold and unapproachable and you— you think I'm a

 

**WARNING: This message has not been sent and contains unsaved changes.**

 


	111. Chapter 111

> Subject: **See you tomorrow night**
> 
> Fri, Oct 23 at 11:44 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

What a charming story! You did make me laugh. Forgive me for not writing more, but it was a long day and I’m going to fall straight into bed (and hopefully dream of you).

I’ll be there at a quarter after eight. Meet you at the bar. Big guy, brown hair (much longer than it was two months ago). You can’t miss me. I’ll be waiting.

 

**Message sent**

 


	112. Chapter 112

 

 

Today 11:46 AM

[BLAZE]: Hey Behemoth, As promised, here’s my number. I’ll see you tonight. Love, Blaze

[BEHEMOTH]: Perfect! See you tonight. Can’t wait. <3

 


	113. Chapter 113

 

 

Today 8:14 PM

[BEHEMOTH]: Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m here. Don’t rush though, I’m not going anywhere.

[BLAZE]: Thanks. I’m running a bit late. My apologies. I’ll be another ten minutes.

 


	114. Chapter 114

 

 

Today 8:27 PM

[BLAZE]: Here. Going to the coat room first. I’ll be another couple of minutes. Thank you for your patience.

[BEHEMOTH]: No worries

 


	115. Chapter 115

 

 

Today 8:45 PM

[BLAZE]: Hey, where exactly are you? The only tall / big guy I can see at the bar is one of my coworkers. I don’t particularly want to see him.

[BEHEMOTH]: Oh, I can see you. Sorry, I expected you to catch on. The one big guy would be me. Come say hello, I promise, I won’t bite.

[BEHEMOTH]: Hey, Blaze. Ignis. Where are you going?

 


	116. Chapter 116

 

 

Today 8:52 PM

[BEHEMOTH]: Shit. How did you disappear so fast? Where did you go? I just wanted to talk.

Today 8:59 PM

[BEHEMOTH]: Blaze. Please. Come on.

Today 9:11 PM

[BEHEMOTH]: Ignis, did you seriously run off on me?

 


	117. Chapter 117

> Subject: **What happened?**
> 
> Sat, Oct 24 at 10:42 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

I've been sitting here at the bar since you disappeared. Hoping (foolishly, it seems) that you just needed some time to get over the shock and come back. It's almost too loud to think and the whiskey isn't helping. I don't usually drink liquor. I'm going to regret this last glass tomorrow but I can't bring myself to care.

I recognize the song they’re playing now. It’s from that record I listened to back when we first started writing in September. It's not the kind of music I would ever normally listen to but I wanted to like it because you did. The band is pretty good. I was looking forward to watching this show with you. It sounded like fun.

I thought you were excited too. I thought you would forgive me for figuring it out first. I see now that was a mistake. I tried to write to you on Friday and explain— I wrote so many drafts and deleted them all— and maybe I knew subconsciously you might react like this. Maybe that's why I couldn't bear to have the conversation over email. Maybe I thought once we saw each other face to face it would just magically work out.

It was your note that gave it away, of course, you've probably realized that by now. If I'd had more time I would have thought it through more carefully, I would have told you sooner. But Saturday night seemed so close—

Fuck, I keep reading over what I've written and the words are a jumble. I don't know how to sign this so I'll just say good night.

 


	118. Chapter 118

> Subject: **Urgent Request.**
> 
> Sun, Oct 25 at 9:12 AM
> 
> From: admin.coso@HRH.gov.lux
> 
> To: Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

Dear Mr Amicitia,

Sir, I hope you won’t mind me reaching out to you but I felt compelled to ask for advice in this matter from someone in a position of authority. His Royal Highness is supposed to go on an outing with a friend later on today, but his escort has unfortunately called in sick. As I am sure you know this is very unlike His Highness’ Royal Adviser and I think we can agree that given the circumstances we should all wish him a quick recovery.

Unfortunately, this leaves the question of this afternoon’s escort unresolved; and with today being Sunday I am the only one on duty at the office to organise it. While the Palace does have some members of the Crownsguard on standby for emergencies, I worry that it is not my place to decide whether they would constitute a strong enough guard to guarantee His Highness’ safety. I would be most grateful if you would provide some guidance in the matter. Should you wish to accompany the Prince yourself, I will of course process the paperwork right away to grant you time in lieu at a later date.

Regards and respects,

HC.

 

_Hayley Carr_

_Second Secretary_

_Chief of Staff’s Office_

_House of His Royal Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum_

 


	119. Chapter 119

> Subject: **You could have at least emailed me yourself**
> 
> Sun, Oct 25 at 11:23 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

I woke this morning to A) a frantic email from some undersecretary about Noctis's little outing to the chocobo facility and B) a splitting fucking headache. You can't imagine how pleased I was to be successively stood up by you and then asked to cover your duties. Really charming. Of course when my sister found out I was going, she wanted to go too. Let me tell you, the shrill squealing of excited adolescents does not mix peacefully with a whiskey hangover.

Seriously, what happened? I take back everything I've said if you really are sick, but I have a solid suspicion you're just hiding from me.

 


	120. Chapter 120

> Subject: **Would you drop the act already…**
> 
> Mon, Oct 26 at 3:21 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Are you really expecting me to buy the whole ‘I knew but I thought it was better not to tell you’ excuse? Is that really the best you can come up with? Well, I get it. I’ve proven pretty gullible these past few weeks, it’s only natural you’d try to see if you can get away with it. I should have known better really. But it was too good a performance on your part. Impressive, on point, you can be proud. I hope it was fun for you at least. Well done. Congratulations. Played me like a fiddle.

But it’s over. You’ve blown it, let it go.

It would have been mean enough to mock me when you learnt about the ad - however you did; but setting up this whole farce was needlessly cruel. I don’t even want to think how far you were planning on taking it. What was the endgame? Sleeping with me for further boasting rights? Were you going to tell me right after or just keep pushing to find out exactly what you could make me do? Or did you have another kind of plan? Public humiliation maybe? Were you going to invite your friends from the Glaives to the show?

Don’t bother answering, I don’t really want to know.

All I ask is that you kindly leave me alone and go brag to whoever it is you enjoy bragging to.

I’m not signing this. I don’t think I ever want to use that name again.

 


	121. Chapter 121

> Subject: **You said once you wouldn't delete my email unread. Please don't. Please read this**
> 
> Mon, Oct 26 at 9:39 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Ignis, no, I swear to you by all I hold dear. I swear it on my father's shield. That isn't what happened.

Do you really despise me that much? I know we've never been on particularly cordial terms, but haven't we been judging each other like books? Never making it past the cover. Do you really hate me enough to believe I'd do such a thing? How, after all we've shared?

I'm sitting on the roof and I'm staring at the lights of the financial district and they're blurry because fuck it I'll admit it, I'm crying. I didn't know you lived there. I didn't know a lot about you, I guess. I should have paid more attention.

Might as well end it here—

Behemoth, who is also Gladio, and misses you more than I can possibly say in mere words.

 


	122. Chapter 122

([Asoeiki](https://asoeiki.tumblr.com) has made some really amazing fan art for us to channel all the hurt and she's very kindly agreed to let us share it with all of you. Please [go give her some thanks and love](https://asoeiki.tumblr.com). <3) 

 

 

 

 


	123. Chapter 123

> Subject: **I can’t do this.**
> 
> Wed, Oct 28 at 10:42 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

I remember reading _The Mindflayer’s Embrace_ a few years ago as part of my literature curriculum. The language was beautiful but the story left me rather indifferent. The whole tragedy was pivoting on the two main characters progressively realising how cursed and dangerous their union was.

The emphasis put on their despair and pain frankly annoyed me. I didn’t understand it. I remember thinking at the time something along the lines of ‘yes, it’s sad, we get it. Now grow up and move on.’ Not very compassionate of me, was it? But I couldn’t understand. The life given to me has always made my own feelings secondary, maybe even optional. No one has ever been interested in what I felt, only in how brilliant my mind was and what it could do for them.

I went to the Royal Library yesterday, got the book out again. I’m still not enjoying it this time around. But, in a cruel twist of irony, it’s now because I find the description of the characters’ predicament to be stiff and uninspired. Their pain is clichéd, trite. It pales in comparison to the flamboyant hurt that’s been scorching my mind for days now. It’s alive, crawling and clawing. It also has beauty to it, a testimony to how much my soul could come to feel. I didn’t know. I’d never dreamed I was capable of such emotions. You did this to me. You and your words. And it’s not going away. It just hurts and hurts. And keeps on hurting.

It'd be easier if I could hate you for it.

As foolish as it is, I’ve been wishing - repeatedly - that we’d never started this correspondence, that I’d never placed that ad, that you’d never answered it. Anything to change what happened.

If what you say is true - and the Astrals have pity on me, I want it to be - then I owe you an apology. A rather heartfelt one. So I’m sorry I couldn’t believe you. I couldn’t give you the benefit of the doubt. I just couldn’t conceive such coincidence in a city this size, it seemed ridiculous and impossible. But if one stops and wonders about the circumstances that made us reach out to each other, then maybe the truth actually makes perfect sense.

A cruel, sinister kind of sense. Maybe that’s why I didn’t want to believe it. Because this is worse. I’d rather you were the wretched brute I believed you to be. At least, I’d be the only one hurting then.

When I thought of Behemoth, I thought how what we were building would become my haven from everything else, a safe place, a place outside of my duties and my work and my ever darkening future prospects. I wanted to believe in it, if only for a short peaceful while. But if you are who you are, then this can never be. It’s an illusion, a mirage conjured by some absurd desire of mine to be allowed a life beyond the duties I’ve been given. I should have known better than to wish for more than what has been granted to me. No matter how much you desire it, you cannot be safe for me. You cannot promise not to interfere with my work when you exist in the middle of it. You’re a threat to all I’ve worked so hard to achieve. My duty is all I have, it’s who I am. And I have to protect it or I will lose myself.

So I’m sorry. Words can’t express how sorry I am. But I can’t do this. I can’t. I hope you can find happiness somewhere else. Thank you for letting me dream.

Blaze (I guess I lied… I still like that name)

 


	124. Chapter 124

> Subject: **I won't ask you to**
> 
> Thu, Oct 29 at 1:51 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Blaze. I remember him. He loved me.

When I tried to talk to you today, your face was cold, and you turned away and said you didn't want to speak to me.

I said before that I wasn't trying to convince you of anything. I wasn't then and I won't now.

I don't want your apology. I don't accept it.

Reading that was worse than any physical pain I've endured. I'm still struggling to breathe.

And I knew that was what you thought of me. I knew it. But it still feels like a fucking dagger in my heart to hear you confirm it.

I won't bother you again.

 


	125. Chapter 125

More awesome art by [Asoeiki](https://asoeiki.tumblr.com/) to illustrate chapter 124 and to help with the wait... Go give her some love people, she's amazing. <3

Speaking of, we're sharing [Classified musical feels](https://nomadsky.tumblr.com/tagged/classified-musical-feels) on Tumblr, and the drawings were inspired by [this song shared by Steggie](http://thesteggie.tumblr.com/post/161721427402/nomadsky-the-last-chapter-it-hurts-like-hell), it does fit the current mood pretty well ^ ^;;. If you want to share your Classified musical feels, send me songs on [my tumblr](http://nomadsky.tumblr.com) (asks are opened) or post them and tag me (@nomadsky) <3)

 

 


	126. Chapter 126

> Subject: **You haven’t understood anything.**
> 
> Fri, Oct 30 at 10:34 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I know I shouldn’t be doing this. I’ve stopped myself so many times since I received your last email. I tried to let you go. Quietly. Resignedly. It was best for both of us. I tried so hard to let you disappear from my life, as much as possible anyway. Even if you hated me. Even if you thought all those horrible things about me. I kept on telling myself it was for the best. I begged the Astrals for strength, but they haven’t heeded my call and I’ve run out of willpower and patience. Out of tears too, I think.

Are you confused yet? You probably are. I’m sorry. One more apology you won’t want from me. You probably don’t want anything from me by now. For all I know, you’ve gotten rid of that account and my words are going to fall in the void never to be seen by you. If that happens, then maybe the Gods are magnanimous after all, preserving you from my unseemly weakness.

I can’t get you out of my head. I’ve been reading your letters again. I know your voice now. I thought I could hear it before, but I was wrong. I know your tone. I know where you pause between words. I know what your breath sounds like when you sigh. So many details I’d never noticed before, I’d never paid attention to, yet they mean everything now.

Your parting words are a searing brand in my mind. ‘He loved me,’ you said. Do you really think my feelings are so fickle? Why do you think I hurt so much?

I tried to tell you. ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ is such a platitude, isn’t it? I tried to tell you, but maybe it was foolish of me to expect you would understand. You’re Noctis’s Shield, after all. You’re an Amicitia. You have a destiny. You’re a peer of this kingdom. Nothing can change that.

We’re not the same. I’m replaceable, Gladio. I don’t have a name. Or a family. Or a grand title. The only destiny I have is the one they’ve given me, the one they can take away without even a word. Just a nod. A lift of an eyebrow. Can you imagine what it feels like? To give your life away for someone, to live in a void that is filled with nothing but your duty to this one and only master? And to know, every second, every instant of every day, that it would take one mistake, one faux pas, one off-day, for all you are to be taken away from you?

When I learnt who the man who offered me to look after his son was, I wasn’t pleased, or happy, or proud. I was scared. I’ve understood from very young that as nice and affable as our lords are to me, I am nothing in the grand scheme of this world. So I’ve worked hard to become the best I could be, to be worthy. And I’ve stayed the best. In everything I’ve been asked to tackle. So I could stay, so I could serve Noct, so I could become who he needs. Me and no one else. So I could become someone who couldn’t be easily replaced.

But I’m not vain enough to believe I’m anywhere near that goal yet.

Do you know who can dismiss me? Of course, you don’t. But I do. I looked it up. I had to know. Noctis’s Chief of Staff. Or the Lord Chamberlain. Or any high-ranking military officer who believes I could be a threat to the Prince.

Yes, you could dismiss me if you wanted. You could destroy my life. A word from you would be all it takes. Simply because you were born at some random - but privileged - place in the universe, you could erase everything it’s taken me years of constant effort to build if you so wished. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? How much power you have that you’re not even aware of.

Do you understand now how delusional I was to believe something could come out of our naive and delightful letters?

And before you misunderstand again, I didn’t mean you were a threat because I believe you would abuse the power you have over me. You’re a threat because I love you and that’s a weakness I cannot afford. Do you have any idea how many well connected people would love a shot at my job? At growing their influence over the future king? How they would use any excuse to get me removed?

A tryst within the Prince’s House, between two of his closest advisers, one of them a commoner? How difficult do you think it’d be to point that out as a bad influence? To turn it into a scandal? Especially considering how close in age we all are. Who do you think they’d go after? An upstart like me, fraternising with a lord and a co-worker, in the Prince's close entourage... Casting doubts over my dedication and loyalties, spoiling them with the stench of distasteful egotistic ambitions, would be child's play.

I won’t let my behaviour sully Noct’s reputation, or have him defend me; until someone with more authority decides the Prince’s attachment to me is regrettable, but easy enough to sever.

I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to love you and protect Noctis all at once. I told you early on, he will always be who matters most. I won’t leave him alone. I’ve promised this to myself from the first day I took on my role. My life is his. Nothing can change that.

Even if I have to feel like my heart has been carved out of my chest with red pliers. Even if I have to delete every word you wrote for me and cry a thousand tears for each of them. Even if I have to give you up.

You don’t want an apology so I won’t give you one. But I will tell you that I wish our circumstances were different. I wish I could tell you I love you and it would matter. It would mean something. But it can’t.

So as it is, I love you. And I hope you can find enough kindness in your heart to forgive me and forget about me.

Ignis

 


	127. Chapter 127

> Subject: **I can't replace you**
> 
> Sat, Oct 31 at 12:01 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Oh love. My love. I've _missed_ you.

I found our park bench. It's really cold though. And kind of creepy this late at night.

I just couldn't stand another evening in my room. Staring at the ceiling. I had to get out. And suddenly I was so sick of the city, so sick of being trapped under the Wall. I fled for the park. I haven't seen anyone else come through here all night. (Good thing, I would probably terrify them.) I've been lying on the bench and watching the stars move through the leaves.

Marble gets very cold at night. I should have worn more layers.

I jumped for my phone when I felt it vibrate, as I've been jumping for it since Saturday. You had me trained, you know? Even after only a couple of months. Whistle and I'll come. Every email you sent was like a gift. I saved them all. I would never delete them.

I read your email here, lying on our bench, and after I finished reading it I put my arm over my eyes and cried.

I've really missed you, Blaze.

And I know your voice now too. I've never heard you say _dearest_ but I know how it would sound if you did. I know how it would send a slow melt down my nerves and make me ache for you.

It already does, and you didn't even have to speak it out loud.

I won't. I won't forget about you. I love you. I just found you. I can't bear to lose you when you're so near now. I can't bear to think of all those awful state dinners we attended, when you were so close I could have reached across the table and touched your hand.

I can't cast away my name, even if it were possible. I'm probably the only other person in Eos who would understand what you mean by your duty to Noctis. I can't make myself not an Amicitia. But even if I can never touch you in the flesh—even if you must turn your eyes away when we pass in the halls—even if we must protect Noct side by side without ever betraying what we once meant to each other—let me at least have your words. Even if it's only one letter a year. Because, as lonely and lost as this must make me sound, nothing in my life has ever given me such joy as reading your letters.

It may be too much to ask. I respect your judgment and your decision. If there is any hope for us, any at all, wear the Red Mage costume tomorrow night.

If you wear something else, I promise I'll delete this account and never speak of it again. But I can't promise to forget you. It would be easier for me to pull the stars from the sky for you.

Always,

Your Behemoth

 


	128. Chapter 128

 

 

The Lord Chamberlain is ordered by His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum

and

His Royal Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum to invite

Lord Gladiolus Amicitia, Shield of His Royal Highness

To this year's Grand Masquerade Ball

in the Rotunda Gardens

on Saturday, 31st October, at 8.00 p.m.

A reply is requested to:

State Invitation Secretary, Lord Chamberlain's Office,

Grand Palace, Insomnia

Dress: Full costume and mask required

 


	129. Chapter 129

 

 

Today 8:17 PM

[GLADIO]: You’re beautiful

[GLADIO]: Red suits you

[IGNIS]: Thank you. You wear the costume of the knight with effortless grace as I expected. Here’s to hoping it doesn’t feel too much like work.

[GLADIO]: It feels amazing

[GLADIO]: I'm giddy

[GLADIO]: I can't believe you wore it

[GLADIO]: I can't take my eyes off you

[IGNIS]: Don’t read too much into it. I have no idea what I’m doing. I nearly didn’t come at all, even if Noct would have had my head. But it was never really a choice, I knew I’d wear it if I came. I couldn’t let Behemoth disappear. I just couldn’t.

[IGNIS]: My better judgement seems to be worth nothing when it comes to you.

[GLADIO]: I really am sorry. I know I've made a mess of your life this past week.

[GLADIO]: I was miserable without you

[GLADIO]: This is enough. I won't read anything into it. I'm just going to stand here and try not to stare at you too obviously. It looks like I'm bored and playing with my phone, right?

[GLADIO]: I'm glad you came

[IGNIS]: Very bored. Your hair really got longer. I hadn’t properly seen it.

[IGNIS]: And I don’t think miserable quite covers it. I really missed you.

[GLADIO]: It grew fast! I was urging it on, maybe that helped

[GLADIO]: I couldn't stop daydreaming about you twisting your fingers through my hair

[GLADIO]: It's a good thing you don't watch Noct’s training sessions

[GLADIO]: You would be appalled by how distracted I’ve been lately

[GLADIO]: Miserable doesn't come CLOSE

[IGNIS]: Noct’s going to greet the ambassadors, I’ve got to go with him. I’ll probably have some free time after dinner. Come say hello. It’ll be suspicious not to in these costumes.

[GLADIO]: OK. Thank the stars I've got a mask on. I'll do my best impression of icy and indifferent.

 


	130. Chapter 130

 

 

Today 11:39 PM

[IGNIS]: Might need to send you back to etiquette lessons. That salute was a bit shaky. Good composure overall though. You get marks for effort.

[GLADIO]: I'm pleased you appreciate the effort. It took enormous strength of will to stop myself from taking your hand. Have we ever even touched? I don't think we have.

[IGNIS]: I don’t take my gloves off at work. So I don’t believe we have, no. Which is an odd thought considering what you’ve been doing in my mind for months now. This situation is both endearing and ridiculous.

[GLADIO]: You know what’s ridiculous? Noct and Prompto in those matching costumes. It’s great. Did you help them?

[GLADIO]: Your gloves are driving me mad. I thought they were all red leather until you turned your hand and I saw the underside is red lace.

[GLADIO]: I want to peel them slowly off your hands

[IGNIS]: Yes, their costumes were my idea. But they fully embraced it; the Moon Huntress and the Wayward Chocobo is a beloved tale after all. I knew Prompto would love to dress up in feathers. The tailors did a fantastic job, he really looks like he’s halfway into transforming from bird to human. But my initial thought was that Noct is so beautifully androgynous, a dress would suit him. I was right. He looks fierce.

[IGNIS]: As for my gloves… what was it you said earlier? ‘Thank the stars I’ve got a mask on?’ I: I feel so lost. I see you right there, and the idea of going home tonight still not knowing what your skin feels like against mine chokes me. But all my reservations still stand, and allowing ourselves that small comfort is dangerous. We’ll want more. We’re always going to want more.

[GLADIO]: Noct is definitely rocking that dress

[GLADIO]: Prompto looks like a sentient and very enthusiastic feather duster

[GLADIO]: Forgive me. I blurted that out about your gloves before I could stop myself. But look, I’m standing as far across the room as possible. I won’t come any closer.

[GLADIO]: Oops I got my sleeve in the sherbet fountain

[IGNIS]: The Prince’s Shield, ladies and gentlemen. The epitome of grace, elegance… Actually, never mind.

[GLADIO]: I was dodging that Countess who keeps trying to grab my ass. Also, you were toying with your gloves. It's very distracting.

[IGNIS]: Can’t say I blame her, it’s a very nice ass. And she can get away with it.

[IGNIS]: Also I’m not used to wearing lace, it feels odd… like I’m both wearing gloves, yet I’m not.

[IGNIS]: They’ll dim the lights for the fireworks in a bit. Everybody will go out in the gardens, but it’s chilly. I plan on staying by the alcove window. Will be a prime target for thieves to strike. Glove thieves. Dangerous, yet handsome thieves. I might just have to surrender one of my gloves without a fight.

[GLADIO]: Thanks for the intel

[GLADIO]: I'll keep an eye out for them as I make my way to the window

 


	131. Chapter 131

> Subject: **Dude, check it out**
> 
> Sun, Nov 1 at 12:18 AM
> 
> From: deadoralive@eosmail.com
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com

 

You were right. They’re up to something. I snapped this photo when they were in the corner talking.

 

 


	132. Chapter 132

> Subject: **Wait. Are they wearing matching costumes?**
> 
> Sun, Nov 1 at 12:26 AM
> 
> From: tackleandbait@eosmail.com
> 
> To: deadoralive@eosmail.com

 

Wait, wait, wait. What the hell? The costumes, that has to be a coincidence, right? I mean they barely say hello to each other usually. But they look downright cosy there. What’s going on… I have a feeling I’m going to regret this, but I want to know now.

 


	133. Chapter 133

> Subject: **Good night**
> 
> Sun, Nov 1 at 2:17 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

I know now what your skin feels like against mine.

I'll treasure that moment forever. The fireworks painting your face in a kaleidoscope of color as you removed your mask. The explosions and music so loud I could barely hear your whispered "Yes," when I asked if I could take your glove off.

My hand closing around yours. My lips brushing the bare underside of your wrist.

I've hidden the glove in the very back of my desk, where curious little sisters won't find it.

I love you.

Gladio

 


	134. Chapter 134

> Subject: **Best night.**
> 
> Sun, Nov 1 at 2:32 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I can still feel your lips on my skin. If I close my eyes, I can feel the warmth of your breath, the caress of your fingertips, the touch of your kiss. Wonderful and forbidden. It’s enough to make me shiver.

I wish you were here. I know it’s cruel of me to say it. But I did tell you all those letters ago that I’m a being of contradictions. The past week has rather worsened that disposition of mine.

I want something of yours too. Would you send one of those locks of hair you grew for me to my PO box? I’ll feel better with it close.

I love you too.

Ignis

 


	135. Chapter 135

(Art by the lovely [@dyslexiac](https://twitter.com/dyslexiac/status/875057025075388417) over on twitter. Go give them some love. <3) 


	136. Chapter 136

> Subject: **If this is cruelty then give me more**
> 
> Sun, Nov 1 at 3:37 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Is it weird if I still want to call you Blaze? It suits you so well. Not that Ignis isn't a beautiful name too. I'll call you whatever you like as long as you let me keep writing to you.

Remember how hungover everyone was after Moon Festival? It's worse today! Some idiot in the admin office scheduled our once-monthly weekend drill for this afternoon and everyone is furious. The entire Crownsguard looks like they just spent a week dungeon-crawling. Cor keeps shooting me dirty looks and muttering about my youthful metabolism. Joke's on him, I was drinking punch last night. You're all the intoxication I need.

And of course you can have a lock of my hair. Anything you desire. Do we have to keep using the post office box, though? Couldn't you come up with an excuse to stop by after Noct's training session tomorrow? I won't try to touch you. I'll be all gross and sweaty anyway. But just to say hi?

Needy and craving,

Behemoth

 


	137. Chapter 137

> Subject: **Sounds like a rough day.**
> 
> Sun, Nov 1 at 10:54 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Blaze is fine, and cautious too. I like that name; even more so because of the memories that are now attached to it.

And Cor has no business complaining about anyone’s metabolism. I’ve seen him take on a whole squadron of magitek soldiers after a sleepless night, kick all their asses on his own in under ten minutes, and still look good while doing it.

Speaking of looking good, are you trying to get me to come to the training centre so you can show off? Gross and sweaty, right? You’re a manipulative bastard. And absolutely, it’s working.

But I must think about it…

An excuse, you say. You make it sound so easy. Until recently, I would have rather come up with an excuse not to have to go. If I’m going to be acting so out of character I need a good reason for it. Noct in particular is smart. He’ll catch on if we’re not careful.

I’ll see if I can come up with something.

I miss you. And I love you,

Blaze

 


	138. Chapter 138

> Subject: **Teaching evaluation.**
> 
> Mon, Nov 2 at 9:27 AM
> 
> From: teachingstandards@insomnia.ac.lux
> 
> To: Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

Mr Amicitia,

I hope this letter finds you well. As you are undoubtedly aware, the University of Insomnia is the official overseeing body of His Royal Highness’ education and is responsible for monitoring and ensuring the quality of the teaching provided to His Highness in all departments.

As a teaching member of the Prince’s House, you are required by law to submit to a yearly teaching evaluation to ensure that your teaching methods and pedagogy meet the standards set by the University. Over the next two weeks, your teaching will be assessed at various points, with and without prior notice. I would like to remind you that the goal of this evaluation is to help improve your methods and performance. I would therefore urge you to carry on as usual in order for the results to truly reflect your current ability. If your demonstration is found lacking, further training will be recommended in specific areas as appropriate.

Please remember that your assessor possesses extensive qualifications and experience with teaching methods and tutoring. If you have any questions or require any help, his role is to answer and assist you. As a university, we encourage self-reflection and self-critique, and are supportive of teachers looking to expand and refine their skill set.

The assessor who has been assigned to you is Dr Ignis Scientia. You can find a complete list of his credentials as well as published works at http://insomnia.ac.lux/staff/profile/ignis.scientia. Should you wish to contact him to discuss your assessment, you can do so at Ignis.Scientia@insomnia.ac.lux.

If you have any general query regarding the evaluation process, please contact in first instance my office by responding to this email.

Ethical concerns regarding this evaluation, should they arise either during or after it has been carried out, can be raised with the University’s Board of Ethics at ethics@insomnia.ac.lux.

Kind regards,

SR.

 

_Sheila Rasmussen_

_Head of Teaching Standards_

_Department of Education_

_University of Insomnia_

 


	139. Chapter 139

> Subject: **What have you done**
> 
> Mon, Nov 2 at 10:36 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Is that a fake, or did you pull the strings to make it really happen?

Blaze, you're a genius and you terrify me. I want to kiss you.

Ethically,

Behemoth

P.S. If my performance is lacking, further training may be required, huh? Tell me more about that.

 


	140. Chapter 140

> Subject: **The best excuses are the ones that are no excuses at all. Strategy 101.**
> 
> Mon, Nov 2 at 12:03 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

The evaluation is very much not fake; so please, do take it seriously.

I had planned on doing a full assessment of Noct’s teaching staff at some point this year anyway; I’ve just had to shuffle the timing a bit.

Until now, the University only allowed me - as both a staff member and Noct’s primary tutor - to recommend assessors for yearly evaluations; despite the fact that I’ve had the qualifications to do that work myself since I was fifteen… Anyway, based on some arbitrary decision they haven’t fully explained - but that I believe to be based on how bruised their ego is by my achievements, they’ve now agreed that I was old enough and could carry out the assessment myself.

Perfect timing, indeed.

And to answer your question, if I find your performance lacking, you will be required to attend a series of training workshops at the University either this quarter or the next. Their exact length and topic are variable, and which one you might get assigned to depends on the conclusions of my report. I teach a couple myself, the rest is the remit of the Department of Education.

I have a feeling, however, that this is not what you were fishing for, was it?

However, I’m not going to entertain fantasies where Noct’s education is concerned. The Astrals know it requires all the attention I can give it. I’ll settle for bringing a clipboard, my most severe glasses and this cold, icy demeanour you used to resent so much. Let’s see how much it does for you now.

Also I really want you to kiss me. With love,

Blaze

 


	141. Chapter 141

> Subject: **The best excuses are the ones that mean I get to show off while you glare at me over your glasses**
> 
> Mon, Nov 2 at 2:36 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Don't worry, I'll be the consummate professional. I told you once I'm very good at what I do. I wasn't exaggerating. Go ahead and drill me on the finer points of nutritional theory. We might disagree on the conclusion but I can cite chapter and verse to back it up.

Or maybe you should go ahead and mark me down anyway. Who knows, I might enjoy attending your workshop? It would give me an excuse to admire the way your ass looks in those perfectly pressed pants every time you turn to write on the board. And I'd like to watch you teach, visual benefits aside. There's so little I know about your intellectual life beyond the day-to-day of the Citadel and the work you do with Noct. I imagine it would be a pleasure to see you in your element.

I'm a quick study, but if it comes to that, perhaps I can convince you to trade a kiss for a good grade.

Love you,

Behemoth

 


	142. Chapter 142

> Subject: **Upcoming evaluation.**
> 
> Mon, Nov 2 at 4:03 PM
> 
> From: Ignis.Scientia@insomnia.ac.lux
> 
> To: Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

Amicitia,

I expect the university has informed you of your upcoming evaluation. As explained, I will drop in on your teaching sessions at random intervals. I also require you to choose three sessions within the next two weeks that you feel demonstrate the strength and breadth of your teaching. Two of these must be part of your normal scheduled routine with His Highness. The third can be a demonstration of your choice, either of direct teaching or skill. Note that you will be asked to explain your choice and that this justification will be evaluated as well.

Please reply to this email within the next forty-eight hours.

Regards,

Ignis Scientia

 


	143. Chapter 143

> Subject: **I must be insane.**
> 
> Mon, Nov 2 at 4:06 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Your survival skills are legendary enough. Take me camping.

Blaze

 


	144. Chapter 144

> Subject: **Re: Upcoming evaluation**
> 
> Mon, Nov 2 at 5:37 PM
> 
> From: Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux
> 
> To: Ignis.Scientia@insomnia.ac.lux

 

Scientia,

As I'm sure you're aware, for all the time I spend training His Highness in the physical arts, the most significant demonstration of my skill is my ability to protect him in any situation, even those most unlikely: e.g., several nights in the wilderness outside the Wall. I propose a demonstration trip to a nearby haven. His Highness should not need to be in attendance. Does Friday, the 13th of November, suit your schedule? I suggest leaving that afternoon and returning on the Sunday.

For the other two sessions, you may attend any of Noctis's usual 3pm training sessions. I never give him anything less than my best teaching, so there's no need to select any particular session as far as I'm concerned. If you have more specific requirements, please make me aware of them.

I look forward to impressing you with my strength and breadth.

Sincerely,

Gladiolus Amicitia

 


	145. Chapter 145

> Subject: **Re: I must be insane**
> 
> Mon, Nov 2 at 5:56 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

You're brilliant. I love you. I love you! It'll be too cold to swim but let's do it anyway. I'll pack armfuls of blankets for after. I'll build the biggest fire you've ever seen.

When I close my eyes I can feel the waterfall all around us and I can feel you— your hand— the touch of your hand on my face. Did you see I grew a beard for you too? Did you like it? If you don't like it I'll shave it off tonight.

My heart is racing so fast right now. I wish you were here. I want to know what your lips taste like.

Behemoth

 


	146. Chapter 146

> Subject: **If we must.**
> 
> Mon, Nov 2 at 6:08 PM
> 
> From: Ignis.Scientia@insomnia.ac.lux
> 
> To: Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

Amicitia,

If this is your choice, I will go with it. Just know that I am not so easy to impress. Also packing for that trip is your responsibility and I will judge you on that too. You better not make me regret humouring you if you want to have any free time in the coming months.

I will be available by 1pm on Friday and must be back for 2pm on Sunday. Plan accordingly.

Also unless you’re absolutely certain you can impress me with your driving skills (here’s a hint, don’t try), I’ll drive. You can navigate.

Regards,

Ignis Scientia

 


	147. Chapter 147

> Subject: **Definitely insane.**
> 
> Mon, Nov 2 at 10:43 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest… Love… My Behemoth… My Gladio…

I’m going to whisper them all to you under that waterfall. It’ll be a day just for the two of us, a day where I can forget how crazy and unreasonable I’m being. I won’t mention it; and if I think about it, I know you’ll make me forget. Just for one day.

My head is filled with doubts. Whether we should be doing this at all. Whether I’m making a terrible mistake. And yet, I can’t bring myself to care. I’ve been as cautious as I can, but I want you. I need you. You wouldn’t let me go when I asked, and now I’m yours, tied and tangled. I can’t escape you anymore.

Of course I noticed the beard. In all honesty, I’ve been thinking about it a fair bit. What it’ll feel like under my fingertips, brushing against my skin, a soft presence when I kiss you. Can you tell I like it? Keep it. It suits you.

I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon. Be a darling and give me that lock of hair then? But be smart about it, Noct’s nosy.

I miss you. Eleven days to go. I’m sitting on my couch thinking about that trip, about you, about us. I feel lost, staring at a mirage and not daring to blink for fear it might vanish, its wonders never to be witnessed again. Keep us safe.

Blaze

 


	148. Chapter 148

> Subject: **Folie à deux**
> 
> Mon, Nov 2 at 11:52 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

My own dear love,

You're safe with me. There's no way anyone could know. I'll borrow my father's car (yes, you can drive). I'll bring a tent in case of rain, but we'll sleep under the stars.

We'll wake early, when sunrise falls across our faces. Sleeping bags zipped together, so I won’t have to reach for you; you’ll be already in my arms. We'll make coffee on the cookstove. Eggs and bacon over the campfire. And then we’ll hike down to the waterfall.

You did try to let me go, didn't you? I was too upset to listen, I forced your hand. And once I knew you still loved me, I wouldn't let you. But we won't be like the characters in that awful book, I promise. I might have a destiny—and I think for all you deny it, you do too—but destiny only sets the stage for what we choose to perform upon it. We can still make choices that change the future.

Behemoth

 


	149. Chapter 149

 

 

Today 5:26 PM

[IGNIS]: Prompto, would you be free tomorrow at 3pm?

[PROMPTO]: Sure thing. What for?

[IGNIS]: I’m evaluating Noct’s teachers and I want to observe how Amicitia interacts with different pupils. Just come along and pretend it’s usual PE, I’ll let Noct have the afternoon off afterwards. You can drag him to the shooting range, I’ll give you a pass.

[PROMPTO]: Sweet. I’ll come by the training center at 3 then.

[IGNIS]: Much appreciated. If you tell Noct, make sure to tell him not to say anything to Gladio. I want to see him improvise.

[PROMPTO]: Gotcha.

 


	150. Chapter 150

 

 

 

 

(Above is a note which reads, "Hey, gorgeous! Surprise, this isn't my thesis on nutrition education and outreach for governments! I burned it after I got my degree. (I wasn't as fond of academia as you are.) Hopefully Noct bought the excuse anyway. Here's that lock of hair. I didn't think it would be a big deal to cut it off the side but afterwards Iris said I looked ridiculous, so I had her buzz both sides evenly. I think it looks kinda cool. I might keep it this way. B"

The note is followed by a book cover titled _The Wild Landscapes of Lucis: A Photographic Journey,_ by Flare Arrowny.

An interior spread shows a waterfall, with a caption that says: "Dawnigh - Northwest of the Crown City, travelers will find an unspoiled refuge in the Dawnigh Natural Reserve, which protects portions of what remains of the Lucian temperate rain forest. It rains more than 200 days a year in the park's ocean-facing valleys, where the old-growth forests produce three times the biomass of tropical rain forests. Dawnigh's valleys receive the runoff from its glaciers, which rushes through waterways, filling lakes of various sizes. Baren Lake (p 42, left), for example, is hardly more than a large pond, while Lake Troia rivals the famed Vesperpool in both length and depth.")

 

 

~~~

 

 

(N.B. So as you all know we update this fic in real time, unfortunately Ao3 notifications are really unreliable and can arrive in a few minutes or take several hours which is quite frustrating from a storytelling point of view. 

Thankfully, Steggie is awesome and has made a script linked to a twitter account that sends alerts as soon as a new chapter is posted. If you want to subscribe to it, it's here: <https://twitter.com/AO3_Update> , Steggie has also a mailing list for people who don't use twitter and if you want to be added to it you can send her an email at ao3update@gmail.com . 

Many many thanks to her for deciding to help with that little issue and doing it so awesomely. Give her all the love, guys. <3)


	151. Chapter 151

> Subject: **It feels like I can touch you from afar.**
> 
> Tue, Nov 3 at 7:08 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Smart move using the thesis as an excuse. Also have you got any idea how hard it was for me not to laugh when you grabbed Noct and bench pressed him without warning? That yelp was so undignified, I might need to lecture him about his countenance. But I suppose it was an effective demonstration of strength. I’d lie if I didn’t admit to have enjoyed the show.

Be serious though or I’ll have no choice but to send you to some of the most boring lectures you can imagine (and no, I do not mean mine).

I do like the new hairstyle. You’ve turned from a - forgive me - rather generic if good-looking jock to a much more interesting character in a short few weeks. It definitely suits you. Just thinking about dragging my fingers through your locks, the buzz-cut, down to your beard makes me smile. So many diverse sensations to look forward too.

I feel childish for it, but having that lock of your hair is ridiculously gratifying. Despite the letters and the recent memories, when I got tired in the evening, everything used to suddenly feel so unreal, like I was slowly going mad and I had invented it all. But not now. Now, it doesn’t matter if I fall asleep, or blink, or let my mind wander, or how exhausted I get, I have something to anchor my sanity to, to tell me that you exist somewhere, always, waiting for me. That this is truly happening for us and it is worth it. Thank you.

That book you gave me in place of your thesis is beautiful. But I was dreaming of the outdoors enough as it was. I’ve been staring at the photographs and imagining us there, lost in the wild landscapes.It’s not helping me feel patient and collected, but I have a feeling that’s exactly what you were aiming for.

See you tomorrow,

Blaze

 


	152. Chapter 152

> Subject: **I wish you could**
> 
> Tue, Nov 3 at 10:32 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Listen, Scientia, humor is an indispensable teaching strategy. (See _Humor in Pedagogy,_ Corwen; _Qualitative Methods in Research on Teaching,_ Typhon; and _Using Humor in the Classroom,_ Namingway.) Particularly when you're dealing with someone as easily distracted as Noctis. Glad you enjoyed the show though. Think I could bench-press you? Want to give it a try tomorrow? For demonstration purposes only, you understand.

I've had that odd sensation as well, that I'm making this all up inside my head. Especially now, when we speak face to face in our usual curt workday voices, you with your clipboard and your list of officious questions, and at the same time I'm remembering your late-night missives, the white scarf, the burgundy couch, the waterfall… then I see your lip quirk (you couldn't quite hide that laugh) and I know I'm not imagining it. I like your new look, too. Less studious, more Altissian nightclub. Your hair is just begging to be rumpled.

See you tomorrow—how casual it sounds in your letter, how natural! You'd never know what a hard-fought victory those three words were for us. See you tomorrow, love.

Behemoth

P.S. I thought you’d like that book. Look carefully on page 42. There’s a tall rock formation in the foreground, on the left side of the page. The haven’s just behind it. See how far from everything we’ll be?

 


	153. Chapter 153

> Subject: **Thought of one more thing**
> 
> Wed, Nov 4 at 6:58 PM
> 
> From: deadoralive@eosmail.com
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com

 

Here’s the weirdest part. They've always been super boring, right? Like, you and I have always been the trendsetters around here? And suddenly they both have stylish new haircuts??? It seems like a pretty strange coincidence. Plus, Ignis actually cracked a joke today. Swear to Shiva. I mean, it was terrible, but still… what are they up to?????

 


	154. Chapter 154

> Subject: **Exactly!**
> 
> Wed, Nov 4 at 7:41 PM
> 
> From: tackleandbait@eosmail.com
> 
> To: deadoralive@eosmail.com

 

Seriously, man, I’m starting to think they’re acting weird on purpose to drive us insane. It’s not all the time either, but whatever, it still makes no freaking sense. Must be a bet. Maybe they have to get along for a while or something but they get on each other’s nerves too much for it to really work. Maybe we should beat them at their own game. We could plan a makeover too, reaffirm our position of trendsetters and all that.

And I know you don’t believe me because deep down and whatever you say, you’re scared of him, but trust me, Iggy makes fun of things a lot. It’s just hard to tell when you’re not used to it because he’s still got the same constipated face on regardless. That pun was bad though, like abysmal. He couldn’t be ill, could he? Damn it, now I’m worried. As if I have nothing better to do but be worried about their stupid asses.

Do you think I should ask? Iggy won’t talk if he doesn’t want to, but Gladio’s easier to get info out of. Well, most of the time anyway. He can be a stubborn prick too.

 


	155. Chapter 155

> Subject: **Humour is indispensable. Always.**
> 
> Wed, Nov 4 at 8:16 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

That’s a good selection of references. Did you use them for your thesis? I’m sure the university must still have a copy of it filed somewhere. I’m going to have to pull some strings, I want to read it.

Did you ever meet Professor Namingway before his passing, a couple of years ago? I worked with him a lot, he was an interesting character. Have you got a copy of his book? You should read the preface, you might find it interesting.

I started thinking about humour and laughter. But not in relation to teaching. I thought about that burgundy couch, about lying on it reading a book you gave me, about being able to call you at a moment’s notice because a passage made me laugh and I want to share it with you, I want to thank you for choosing such a perfect story for me, and above all because I want to hear your voice, low and amused in my ear, full of love and promise that you wouldn’t have to hide. It seems like such a small thing, doesn’t it? It shouldn’t be so difficult, and yet…

I want to lounge on that same couch, watching a terrible B-movie because that’s what came on after the evening news and we were too comfortable to move, even if only to reach for the remote. So we end up watching the whole damn thing and laughing together at how absolutely awful it is, but it doesn’t matter because you’re warm and solid against me, yours eyes are bright and happy, and your hands rest on my skin, comfortable and undemanding. Such a simple dream again. Life is cruel.

Maybe one day, we can figure a way of making it work. In the meantime, I can only daydream and miss you. But just thinking of you makes me smile and for now it is enough.

I’ve opened the book to that page you pointed out to and left it on my bedside table. So I can look at it every morning when I get up and again at night when I go to sleep. I’m counting the days.

Nine days to go. I love you,

Blaze

 


	156. Chapter 156

  

  

( ** _Humour in the Classroom_**

A textbook by Professor Cecil Namingway,

_University of Insomnia_

Prefaced by Ignis Scientia

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

**Preface**

The purpose of a preface has always been a subject of hot debate in the academic world. Is it to introduce the author? To entice the readers? To explain how the work fits within its field? 

When I agreed to preface this book, I spent much time thinking about the above and more. Writing for such an illustrious author and renowned publishing company was an honour and I wanted to do the book justice. I never thought I would end up telling a story; yet, I now believe that this would be the best use of this space. So let me tell you a story. The story of how I ended up writing the preface for Professor Namingway’s wonderful _Humour in the classroom._

 

As a rather precocious child raised through government-funded elite education programmes, my experience of classrooms and tuition in general was atypical, a fact that proved problematic when I started studying towards the qualifications in education my work required. To remedy this weakness, I decided to take on a post of teaching assistant in my spare hours. I was thirteen, I thankfully still had a few of those. In a move that will surprise none who know me, I bluntly asked Professor Yeagre Sr, the then Rector of the University, who she considered to be the best teacher in the Department of Education. Her lack of hesitation was telling. ‘Professor Namingway,’ she said. ‘For academic credentials, it would be a difficult call. But when it comes to teaching, he’s the one.’

I went, found the office I was looking for, knocked on the door. 

‘Oh, just come in,’ a voice answered, strong and clear. 

So I did. The room I entered was messy, yet gave away a mysterious, almost holy feeling. Light was cascading from the skylights in an orange glow - it was nearly twilight - that illuminated myriads of dust specks floating peacefully through dangerously leaning towers of books, a couple of old armchairs and an impressive number of abandoned porcelain cups. 

There was a desk in the middle of the room, of course, the surface littered with cheap biro pens and notebooks - made out of yellow recycled paper - covered in a spidery scrawl I would come to know so well. But the chair behind the desk was pushed askew and empty. 

I looked around and only noticed the figure sitting on a floor cushion near the wall, a book in his lap, thanks to the bright green jacket he was wearing. Professor Namingway had his head cocked to the side and an amused smile on his face. He’d obviously been waiting for me to find him. 

‘What do you need help with, son?’ he asked. 

Not ‘do you need help with something,’ or ‘can I help you.’ He already knew I needed something and he knew he could help, and he made sure neither of us would feel self-conscious about it. 

I presented my request, made hopeful by his friendly, debonair attitude. He then asked the one question I was dreading. 

‘So what experience do you have?’

‘None,’ I said - there was no point pretending. ‘Well, I have a lot of experience with individual tutoring but not with teaching a class.’

‘That’s good.’

It wasn’t the answer I’d been expecting. I didn’t manage to hide my surprise despite my best efforts. The Professor laughed. I wondered if he was making fun of what he now deemed a ridiculous petition. 

‘I apologise, sir.’ I tried. ‘I understand this might seem a rather unorthodox - maybe even cavalier - request, but I learn fast. I won’t disappoint you.’

‘Don’t fret. I meant what I said. Your lack of experience is a good thing. It means you haven’t acquired any bad habits yet. And if you want a first lesson, here it is: “A classroom is made of unique individuals. Remember that. In the same way, the pupils you tutor are unique, all children in a classroom will be different from one another. The only difference is that you have the added challenge of teaching them all at once. But if you treat them as a homogeneous bunch, you will annoy all and teach none.’

Then he told me to send him my schedule and to be back the next day at four. 

 

I learnt much over the next three years thanks to the Professor’s teaching. The hours I spent in his company and that of his pupils are still amongst the happiest and most interesting of my life. Needless to say, the debt I acquired during that time is one I will unfortunately never be able to fully repay. 

When I got a post as an honorary lecturer at the university for my work as a royal tutor, Professor Namingway didn’t take me to dinner or offered celebratory drinks. He took me to the Observatory to see a meteor shower, and before we parted ways he gave me a binder with a copy of this very book to proofread. 

‘More work for you.’ 

‘Thank you, Professor,’ I replied. 

‘I knew you’d enjoy it.’

We laughed together. It was a good night. 

Not being thirteen anymore, I had little spare time and I did not see the Professor for the next few months, although we exchanged letters and emails as I worked my way through editing his manuscript. 

 

Last Autumn, he summoned me to his office. It took me a couple of days to find the time to go see him. I was shocked when I finally did. He’d always been of short stature - barely reaching my shoulder even when I first met him - but his energy and brilliance always made him seem much more imposing than he was. Not that night. 

When I entered the office, Professor Namingway was uncharacteristically sitting in his desk chair, hunched over one of his notebooks. He looked up and smiled, but the joy in his eyes was hard to see, hidden under a heavy mantle of exhaustion and pain. It only lasted for an instant, but it was enough to worry me. 

We exchanged pleasantries and all seemed to be normal once again. But I had to ask. 

‘Why did you want to see me, Professor?’

‘Oh right. Ever busy, aren’t you? I wanted you to do me a favour.’

‘Anything, sir.’

‘Would you write a preface for that new textbook of mine?’

It felt like a throwback to that first time I hadn’t managed to hide my surprise from him. While my achievements were certainly respectable for my age, there were many more experienced and famous education experts who would have been honoured and delighted to preface the Professor’s new book. I was at a loss.

‘Why me, sir?’

‘Well, it makes sense. It’s about humour. And I’ve always thought you were funny.’

I regret to say I looked at him as if he had lost his mind. I am not what you would call a funny character. In fact, I can recall more than a few occasions when I was told I was very much the opposite. But he only laughed. 

‘See, funny, indeed.’

‘While I can see how my like of countenance would be source of amusement, I hardly believe it makes me funny, sir.’

‘Oh, Ignis,’ he told me. ‘Have you read my book, boy? Or have you proofread it in your sleep? Humour is very misunderstood. People want to generalise it. They want to be able to tell what’s funny and what’s not, like it’s some grand knowable truth. But it’s not. Humour is intimate and personal. It’s changing, morphs itself with life current, and it defines you in a way few character traits can. We both know many things amuse you. Maybe not the things that amuse the greater number, but why would it matter? Remember what I told you the first time you came to help with one of my classes?’

‘Of course.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Know who your charges are, not who they pretend to be. If you want to know someone, learn what makes them laugh. Truly laugh. Learn what makes them giggle to themselves when they’re all alone. A good teacher will know this about every pupil he teaches.’

‘I should have added something.’

‘Sir?’

‘You also need to remember what makes you laugh yourself. Teaching is a relationship, it works both ways.’

I thought a lot about his words afterwards. Of course, I do know what makes me laugh. But I wonder how often I forget to consider it as important when I teach. I know Professor Namingway would have chastised me for it. And as usual, he would have been right to do so. How is a student supposed to enjoy learning if the teacher forgets to do the same? 

 

Professor Namingway died a couple of months later after a short illness. I saw him the day before he passed; I still hadn’t written a word of this preface. I felt awkward - sad, of course - but I didn’t know what to say or how to behave. I have lost many in my life, but I seldom had the chance to say my goodbyes. 

The Professor was still laughing then. He asked me if I had written the preface yet. 

‘Not yet, sir. I am thinking about it,’ I said. 

‘You only have a month left before the editor needs it.’

‘I know, sir. I’ll get it done.’

‘I know you will, but Ignis…’

‘Sir?’

‘You don’t just have to write it. You have to make it funny too.’

‘Yes, sir,’ I said. It seemed like a tough endeavour, but who would have argued with him then?

I went to the funeral today. I watched as they encased Professor Namingway’s ashes in ice, placed them inside a crystal vase and into Shiva’s eternal benevolent care. When I came home, I hardly wanted to laugh. And yet, I had an urge to put words on paper, to write that preface as I had promised. 

_‘Make it funny.’_

How was I to make it funny when the Professor himself admitted that humour had an intrinsically intimate dimension that could not be explained? Maybe I failed writing those words, I doubt they will make many laugh, but it felt right to recall and tell you of the man who has always made me laugh. Even as I grieve now, the thought of him brings a smile to my face. I have no doubt this book will bring about many smiles. It’s the truest legacy the Professor could have left us with. So leave this preface, go read it and find out how humour can make you a better teacher. 

 

Just don’t forget in your haste to discover how it can also make you a better person. 

_~ Ignis Scientia_


	157. Chapter 157

> Subject: **YOU'RE indispensable. (Sorry. Sorry. That was terrible. I know.)**
> 
> Wed, Nov 4 at 10:16 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Love,

You should have seen the grin on my face when I opened Namingway’s book to the preface. You're never going to stop surprising me, are you? How odd to think that I’ve had it sitting on my shelf all these years with your unmistakable voice inside. I look forward to finding all the other books you've hidden yourself in. A scavenger hunt, and the prize is you. (Isn't that an enticing idea! I'll pay a bit more attention to prefaces from now on.)

I'm sorry that I never had the opportunity to meet the Professor, much more so now that I've read your charming eulogy. He did speak once at a luncheon for the physical sciences department. Funny guy. Rather dry and bracing sense of humor. I can see why you liked him.

Speaking of humor, you're lucky that mine is essentially good-natured, Scientia. Don't think I didn't see what you were up to today, springing Prompto on me with no advance warning. It gave them a chance though to practice that trick they've been working on. Don't ask me what purpose under the stars it could serve to switch weapons in the midst of battle, but it keeps Noct from getting too comfortable with using the same arms over and over. (Plus, gotta admit it's a cool move. They get points for style.)

That joke about his guns was pretty good though! I almost laughed. Hope you appreciated the disgusted scowl you got instead.

I can't wait until we can laugh together properly, without having to hide our smiles behind feigned glares. To be in the kitchen, fixing you a cup of a tea, when you call to me to come hear that funny bit from the book you're reading, so I can bend to kiss the top of your head as you read it aloud. Just an evening when we can make popcorn with spices and watch terrible old tonberry kung fu movies, making out during all the boring scenes. It almost hurts to write that, I want it so badly. You're counting the days? I'm counting the _hours._ They can't fly swiftly enough.

Behemoth

P.S. No, no, no. Please don't dig up my thesis. The humor references were for my teaching certificate. I promise you that the thesis itself is utterly devoid of humor, deathly dull, and contains some rather fanciful ideas about public policy that I would shudder for a royal advisor to become aware of.

 


	158. Chapter 158

> Subject: **Astrals have mercy on me, I actually enjoy your terrible sense of humour.**
> 
> Thu, Nov 5 at 7:47 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

About Prompto, I had to see you improvise a lesson; and for reasons that should be obvious, I couldn’t warn you about it. You’re not getting special treatment, no matter how nice your ass looks in those gym pants.

I could have brought a random student you’d never met before, so all things considered I was pretty magnanimous. Although if I am to be perfectly candid, I brought Prompto mostly to spare us both from having to deal with an overly moody Noctis. You’re most welcome.

That comment about your thesis got me curious. ‘Fanciful ideas about public policy’? Now I have to know. Are you an anarchist in disguise, Lord Amicitia? How revolutionary are those ideas exactly? You should be careful about handing over that kind of information to a strategist, darling. It’s a good thing I’m in love with you. But I want to know all sides of you, and unless you absolutely forbid it, I might need to dig up that thesis. It’s my boyfriend’s work after all, I’m interested and I want to read it. Besides, it might teach me a thing or two about nutrition.

Also, I have written many guest chapters for colleague’s books, prefaces and introductions. I am not sure you will find that hunt all that gratifying. My preface for Professor Namingway was probably the most entertaining of the lot. I usually bore readers with education theory rather than tell them stories, but well the content is tailored to the intended audience so I won’t apologise for it.

Are you going to the market on Saturday? If you’re free, it’s far enough from the high districts, and bustling enough with all sorts of people, that we’d hardly be noticed if we sat at a café terrace for a while. I could let you buy me one of the many coffees you promised me. There’s a small painting gallery I like not too far as well. I could show it to you. Just to be clear, it’d be a strictly chaste date. Conversation only. Let me know if it’s tempting enough.

Eight days. Counting the hours would drive me mad. Love you,

Blaze

 

 


	159. Chapter 159

> Subject: **Tried to count the hours just now and it was much more difficult than I expected. Let's stick with days.**
> 
> Thu, Nov 5 at 11:02 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Blaze! Seriously? Yes, of course yes! I'd love to. I must owe you at least a dozen coffees by now. Give me a time and address and I'll be there. I can't imagine anything more pleasant than spending a few hours with you and not having to pretend it's about work.

I missed you today. (I know three days in a row would have been too much, but I missed you anyway.) And I was unreasonably grateful to run into you outside the admin building, although I'm afraid I didn't convey it. I couldn't decide whether to smile or nod curtly, and I think my face got stuck somewhere in the middle, in what must have been a grotesque grimace.

I don't get over there very often, I had to drop off some paperwork for Cor. I've just had an awful thought. Are those the coworkers you told me about, the ones that kept a betting pool on who you'd end up dating? You know I didn't know anything about that, right? Tell me which ones and I'll make sure they never place another wager again.

Anyway. It was a sweet pleasure in the middle of a chaotic day to see your face. You have startlingly beautiful eyes.

Now on to business. Do you really think you can butter me up with a well-timed compliment about my ass? Oh, who am I kidding, of course you can. But I hope _you_ aren't expecting special treatment. You should have a chat with the evaluator they sent last year.

Since you demur so charmingly, I'll spare you the hunt for your other publications, but I make no promises if I end up bored and lonely some rainy afternoon in the Royal Library. Likewise, I assure you that you'll find little of interest in my thesis, although I'm blushing to see how easily you intuited my youthful flights of idealism. I don't forbid it—there's certainly nothing revolutionary enough that it couldn't be published by the royal university press—but your practical intellect would surely make quick work of my romantic follies. I'm curious too, though. Some lazy afternoon let's sit down over coffee and find out just where we both stand on matters of social policy. (Hey, how's that for a thrilling date! Never let it be said that I can't show a guy a good time.)

With all the love in the world,

Behemoth

P.S. Noct has been acting strange, hasn't he? Today he wouldn't stop asking the oddest questions. He was particularly interested in my hair, for some reason.

P.P.S. When you said _boyfriend_ it made my stomach do a little flip.

 


	160. Chapter 160

> Subject: **Seven more days to go… a mere week. It feels unreal.**
> 
> Fri, Nov 6 at 9:30 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

The camping trip is always at the back (and more often than not at the front) of my mind, but the coffee date has me nervous and excited too. It sounds like such a simple thing. How did I put it? Yes, ‘conversation only.’ And yet, would you laugh at me if I told you it had me in all sorts of knots?

We never had a conversation, did we? Not a real one, without a purpose tied to work and a time to watch and duties to fulfil. We never exchanged words that were not curt and to the point, to allow us to part ways as soon as possible. Most of the time, I wonder how I have misjudged you so badly, how I could not see who you were under the pompous title, the inflated ego and the ridiculous sword. Don’t take those comments as insults, they’re only a reflection of how blind I was. I’ve learnt better now, I think of your sensitive words, your gorgeous letters, your love and protectiveness and I feel like the luckiest man alive.

And yet, I think of tomorrow and I’m scared. I can’t think of another word for it.

I know I should rein myself in. I’m being ridiculous. But I can’t help and think, what if we end up in that café staring at each other and realising we have nothing to say? Despite writing to each other for months now… What if we can’t find the words? What if I come across as that annoying jerk you thought I was? Spoken communication is so much harder, more revealing and more traitorous all at once. Difficult and duplicitous, full of expectations, and convenances, and misunderstandings.

I keep on wondering if we should just have gone on that trip, away from prying eyes, where we would have had options that didn’t need to include words. Maybe this is a mistake… but then, I need to know. I need to know we can find that balance in person too. And I’m terrified we won’t.

I’m sorry. I love you and I feel it should be enough. It should brush fears and doubts away. So why doesn’t it? I know I love you. I know it’s real, I can feel it burning under my skin, washing over my mind. Why isn’t it enough?

I’m stopping here. I must forget that train of thoughts. I’ll be at the terrace of _The Old Ramuh’s Brew_ for 2 tomorrow afternoon. Please come.

If we’re stuck for conversation, I’ll just remember how much you enjoyed me buttering you up about how nice your ass is. I can move onto waxing lyrical about your arms. I’d lie if I didn’t admit to have been staring for days now, dreaming to run my fingers along the tense lines of the tendons in your forearms, up your biceps, along the curve of your shoulders, following your collarbones. And then taking your face in my hands and kissing you, soft and unhurried. Perfect.

We’ll struggle to keep the date chaste if I go there though. Better think of some other topics of conversation. I’m probably going to toss and turn for hours trying to compile them tonight.

What did you say to Noct when he asked about your hair? He’s probably jealous. I keep on telling him that hair gel can’t fully replace a comb but he doesn’t want to hear it. Hence the bird nest he wears on his head. I’ve told His Majesty a while ago that I was drawing the line at taking responsibility for Noct’s hairstyle. He laughed at me, but let me have a pass.

It’s freezing outside but I’m going for a run. I’ll go insane if I stay cooped indoors with my thoughts any longer. I wish you were here to make me forget everything, especially how foolish I’m being.

I love you. See you tomorrow. It’s a date.

Blaze

 


	161. Chapter 161

> Subject: **I can't wait to watch the sunrise with you**
> 
> Fri, Nov 6 at 11:43 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Sweet Blaze,

I never thought you were an annoying jerk.

I saw you once in the lockers with your shirt off, and I thought it was a shame that a man with such a gorgeous body would keep it hidden all the time under a suit jacket. You do the same thing with your personality, don't you? Your vivid imagination, your charm and enthusiasm, your warmth and humor—you keep them all under wraps.

The few times we exchanged words, I remember thinking that you clearly didn't want to be having a conversation. Everything from your body language to your tone of voice radiated cold. Everything about you always said _don't look, don't touch, I'm not interested._

But now I know better. Now I know that's the mask you wear to protect yourself. And even if you find it difficult to remove it at first, I won't mind. We can sit and drink coffee and turn our chairs out towards the market to watch the people going by. You don't have to make small talk, you don't have to impress me with witty banter. Hell, we can always pull out our phones and text each other if that's easier. Noct and Prompto do that all the time. (Probably so I won't catch them talking about something illicit, but the principle remains the same.)

I love you, Ignis Scientia, you beautiful, complicated, fascinating man. I love you when I pass you in the hall at work and I love you when you're glaring at me over a clipboard. I love your letters and I love the way you overthink absolutely everything. Don't you dare stay up all night thinking of conversational topics. Get some sleep and we'll figure it out tomorrow, okay? I'll be there to help. We can search the internet for 101 questions to ask your date or something like that.

Wish you could be here to stroke my arms as I drift to sleep,

Behemoth

P.S. Going shopping this weekend for our trip. Anything in particular you'd like? I might plan something slightly more ambitious than packaged noodles.

P.P.S. Oh, I forgot, you asked about Noct. I told him I was growing it out. He said, "Well, _that's_ obvious."

P.P.P.S. I also noticed you evaded my question about the admin staff. Fine, I'll spare them my wrath for now. But I'll remember.

 


	162. Chapter 162

> Subject: **Six days and a date.**
> 
> Sat, Nov 7 at 6:18 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I did sleep; all the better for your loving words. I did lie there for a while thinking of today, but I read your letter again each time worry tried to take hold. And I felt better.

I remember it wasn’t that long ago you were wondering if I would find you boring, if I would spend five minutes with you and think you’re the dumb jock everyone thinks you are… Your words, love, not mine. But you have no doubts anymore, do you? Now you’re a pillar of strength and conviction. When did you become so wise?

I’m already in love with you, darling. Stop making me fall for you over and over again. I don’t know how much more I can take.

On another note, I didn’t so much evade that question about the bet than forgot about it. I was too preoccupied by other more important concerns, like meeting you today.

And yes, it might be the people you think of. But as I told you before, there is no malice in their actions. They see it as a harmless and good-natured joke. I have no anger for them and neither should you. They don’t deserve it. Besides, let’s be smart about this, we should let the pot swell over the next few years. Until Noct is king… until we’re old and boring enough that nobody cares who we might be in love with anymore. And then, I’ll tell them and get that prize for us. We can probably have a lovely dinner out of it, even a short vacation, if we wait long enough.

But enough about this. It’s Saturday. I’ll see you later. I’m excited, not scared anymore. Conversation only, I said. It means I will be able to look at you, there in front of me, and tell you that I love you. With my own voice and words. A few small words swallowed by the fluttering activity of the afternoon market. No one will pay attention except for you. I want to see you smile at me in answer. I can’t wait.

Blaze

 


	163. Chapter 163

> Subject: **See you soon!!!!!**
> 
> Sat, Nov 7 at 1:10 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hey gorgeous, I'm headed out the door now. And you're right, I have no doubts. Isn't that funny? I was so much more nervous before our meeting at the bar. This time, all I can think is how nice it will be to talk to you someplace where we don't have to choose our words and hide our meaning. Where I can actually smile at you instead of grimacing. It's not wisdom, it's more like tipping over an edge, like succumbing to gravity and discovering how blissful it feels to fall.

Love you. On my way. B

 


	164. Chapter 164

 

 

Today 1:36 PM

[GLADIO]: Hey Crowe. Psssst. U up yet?

[CROWE]: Fuck off swordboy, I was awake for a run at 8am. What’s up?

[GLADIO]: Need advice. I’m at the market and I can’t decide. What do you think?

[GLADIO]: [photo of flowers]

[CROWE]: Oh, those are gorgeous. I’m jealous. Who’s the lucky lad?

[GLADIO]: I’m meeting Blaze [clenched teeth emoji]

[CROWE]: No shit?!?? Finally? First time?

[GLADIO]: Uh, not exactly. Tell you more later. I’m serious, do you like them?

[GLADIO]: I was thinking something like “They burn as bright as you do”

[GLADIO]: [embarrassed face emoji]

[GLADIO]: It’s awful isn’t it

[CROWE]: No! Don’t be a dork. It’s great. They’re great. Go get ‘im

[GLADIO]: Thanks babe. Full report soon I promise

 


	165. Chapter 165

 

 

(A coffee-stained bill from a café called 'The Old Ramuh's Brew,' dated from the 7th of November and listing the following order for 2 guests:

\- 1 double espresso - 28G

\- 1 cappuccino - 32G

\- 1 chiffon cake - 35G

\- 1 extra spoon - 0G

The total comes to 104.5G after adding a 10% service charge.

The café address is 3-15-18 Old Solheim Market, Lower Town, Insomnia)

 


	166. Chapter 166

 

 

(A flyer with a painting of a roaring behemoth, advertising an art exposition titled 'Beauty and Danger : the Hunted Beasts of Eos.' It displays works from modern artists and was curated by Sakie Ganimore. Admittance is free. It'll run from the 1st of November to the New Year. The gallery address is 'Sleeping Solheim Gallery, 3 -14 -7 Old Solheim Bridge, Lower Town, Insomnia; it opens from Tuesday to Sunday between 9am and 5pm.)

 


	167. Chapter 167

> Subject: **I had such a wonderful time.**
> 
> Sat, Nov 7 at 9:58 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

You were right not to have any doubts. It was actually hard to part ways when I still had so much I wanted to tell you. Some topics we hadn’t had the time to broach and some words I wanted to keep telling you over and over again.

My neighbour saw me coming home with the flowers and tried to make me talk. I told her they were beautiful and the rest was for me to know and recall. She winked and said: ‘enjoy the recalling.’ I might have told her that I would and slammed the door in her face. She’s a lovely person but way too curious for her own good.

Anyway, I’ve put the flowers in a vase and I’ll go get some liquid plant feed tomorrow. I want them to last until next Friday at least. I’d rather have you there in my kitchen, talking to me when I’m cooking, but for now flowers and memories are enough.

The way you spoke to me this afternoon… I’d never heard your voice go low and warm like this. Were you even aware of it? Do you have any idea what that tone does to me?

I miss it already. I know next week we’ll go back to our usual professional demeanour, but I want you to know I’ll be waiting, counting the days still, waiting to hear your soft laugh and sweet, sonorous words again.

But I also want to thank you for being so restrained and understanding. I could see the tension in your eyes when you replaced that lock of my hair just before we said goodbye. The Astrals forgive my vanity, but I could tell then how much you yearned to kiss me. Know it wasn’t just you. And thank you for still wanting all of this with me despite how difficult it has to be.

I love you. I hope you enjoyed this afternoon as much as I did.

Blaze

 


	168. Chapter 168

> Subject: **I didn't think I could love you more, but I was wrong**
> 
> Sat, Nov 7 at 11:02 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Oh, gods above, I wanted to kiss you so badly. Then, and all the other moments we were together. When you were eating cake, and you had a tiny bit of frosting on your lip, your beautiful full lower lip, and while you were talking I had to hold myself back from leaning over the table and licking it away. I was jealous of the spoon, Blaze—can you imagine? The way you lifted each bite so elegantly and unselfconsciously into your mouth—I wished it could be me, meeting your tongue with mine, pushing you back against your chair—sweet Shiva, you drive me mad. It took inhuman restraint to behave so chastely. That must be what you heard in my voice.

But really I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed our afternoon together. We acquitted ourselves splendidly, didn't we? And didn't have to resort to texts once! In fact I think we interrupted each other far more than we were silent. I knew I loved talking to you (how could we have spent months writing if we didn't love each other's voices) but I didn't know it would be even better in person. You're not just smart, you're _funny._ You make me laugh. And your voice—words can't do it justice. Some rainy afternoon let’s lie on the couch together and you can read to me. I can’t imagine anything more pleasant (kisses aside). Queen Beza’s discourses or dusty pre-Solheim history. You could read me _anything._

The art exhibit was great too. How do you so effortlessly know what I'd like best? I'm going to buy a print of that behemoth painting and hang it over the burgundy couch, to remind you of the day I answered your classified ad with a name I chose after thirty seconds of deliberation.

I wish I could have given you more than flowers. Think of me when you see them in your kitchen, and as you're counting the days till Friday. I'm going to kiss you then.

Yours, always, forever,

Behemoth

 


	169. Chapter 169

> Subject: **OK THIS JUST GOT WEIRDER**
> 
> Sun, Nov 8 at 11:32 AM
> 
> From: deadoralive@eosmail.com
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com

 

Duuuuude. You aren't going to believe this. Yesterday I went to this art exhibit down in Old Solheim. It was mostly paintings but you might like it, there was some interesting wildlife photography of creepy monsters and stuff like that. I was checking out a really cool spread of malboros when guess who walked around the corner? Ignis and Gladio!!!!! Seriously. TOGETHER. They were definitely together, it wasn't coincidence. Both smiling wider than I've ever seen them and talking so fast they were stepping on each other's sentences. I ducked behind a partition before they could see me. I don't know why I didn't say hi but it just felt too awkward. I don't think they were expecting to see anyone they knew. It's not a fancy art gallery, just this funky little place on the waterfront. Not the kinda place you would expect to see anyone from the palace. I hightailed it out of there as quick as I could... but I took this photo first. Just in case you didn't believe me!!

I'm starting to think your theory about them pretending to get along might be 100% wrong. It's starting to look like they ACTUALLY LIKE EACH OTHER.

You doing anything this afternoon? Want me to come by and help you kill some zombies on the couch? Just tell me Iggy isn't going to be there because I feel kinda bad about spying on him. It was an accident though!!!!! Are there any of those little tarts left over that he made? There's nothing in my fridge but a can of vegetable juice and it's way past the sell date, ugggghhhhhhh

 

 


	170. Chapter 170

> Subject: **What the hell?**
> 
> Sun, Nov 8 at 12:58 PM
> 
> From: tackleandbait@eosmail.com
> 
> To: deadoralive@eosmail.com

 

Yeah, get your ass over here. You need to tell me everything in details. This is becoming ridiculous. What do you think it’s all about? I mean, did they just suddenly realised they were best friends and started hanging out after years of ignoring each other? That doesn’t make much sense. And they have nothing in common. Well, except for me…

Shit. You don’t think they’re bonding over me, sharing their worries, complaining I don’t pay enough attention and stuff, do you???? Because ewww… and then ewwww. I don’t need that kind of sentimental crap going on around me. Having to deal with their constant lecturing individually is bad enough. Especially Iggy’s. But Gladio has his insufferable days too when he goes at it harder than Titan’s dick.

Just imagine what they’re going to try and make me eat if they band together?! I don’t deserve that! Oh, speaking of eating, yeah, there are pastries left and even some leftover grilled fish and vegetables (EWW! >___<) from lunch.

And Iggy’s not here. He left once he was done cooking (and forcing me to revise for next week’s history test for two freaking hours). He said he was going to the Palace to prepare the agenda for tomorrow’s Council meeting, I very much doubt he’ll be back. He left money for dinner, so we can have pizza and get the Royal Treasury to pay for it!

Anyway, come over asap, we’re finishing the campaign of _The Living Scourged 3_ today or I’ll throw the controllers out of the window. I’m getting really tired of dying on that bridge.

 


	171. Chapter 171

Hey guys, ^___^

We've been so lucky to receive much fan art inspired by this story recently, so I thought we would share it here. The artists are all amazing and we can't thank them enough, so please go and give them all the thanks and love. <3

Masquerade ball by [Asoeiki](https://asoeiki.tumblr.com/post/162051283394/i-really-missed-youmore-from-the-amazing) (Tikali on here): 

_'I really missed you.'_

 

 

 

Wrist kiss by [Chiii](https://chipeppers.tumblr.com/post/161974203940/the-alcove-window-will-be-a-prime-target-for)

 

(@Shiroki-kun over on Twitter has made a lovely rendition of that scene as well that Asoeiki has coloured, but I haven't managed to get in touch to get permission to post it yet. I'm sure you can find it if you'd like though.)

 

 

 

[Chiii](https://chipeppers.tumblr.com/post/162099138160/more-classified-inspired-gladnis-doodles-being#notes) has also made an absolutely gorgeous comic of the current interactions between Gladio and Iggy. It's gold, Iggy's little smirk is so perfect. 

 

Thousand thanks again to all the artists. We love you guys so much. <3

 


	172. Chapter 172

> Subject: **I’ve encrypted this with key N64TY. You know where to find the code.**
> 
> Sun, Nov 8 at 11:36 PM
> 
> From: Ignis.Scientia@HRH.gov.lux
> 
> To: Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

Dearest,

I apologise for using our work emails, but I couldn’t send some of this through an unprotected civilian server. It’s been a long day and I’ve missed you for all of it. It’s the downside of our lovely date yesterday. It only served to make me feel your absence even more acutely.

I was at Noct’s until lunch, then went to the Palace for some admin work I had to do for the Council. But when I arrived, Cor spotted me and dragged me inside the King’s cabinet. They needed someone with high clearance to take notes and record the minutes of the meeting. His Majesty was there, and your father, Cor of course, and a couple of our spies.

Maybe you’ve heard the news from your father by now. It seems the Empire is making a push from the North-East. No one is sure yet, but it looks like they’re planning to invade from their stronghold in Galahd. It might explain why they invested so much in a few remote islands full to the brim with unfriendly wildlife in that first invasion. His Majesty asked what I thought and I had to tell him. It’s not about the border territories. It’s about Lucis as a whole. It’s a war of minds as much as of territories. Niflheim wants to make sure we can feel them coming, slowly, inexorably, like panicked rats trapped in a shrinking maze.

We talked strategy for hours. His Majesty’s face was so closed off, his tone so controlled, but he looked tired. I could tell he wanted to send troops immediately to face the Empire. But realistically, we don’t have the might it’d take and the whole thing could still be a ruse to try to force us to weaken the capital.

In the end, it was decided that we’d do little, but wait for more conclusive spy reports. His Majesty is sending Cor to Galahd’s border in the morning in reconnaissance. Your father was pushing for sending some of the Glaives with him but many are children of these islands exiled during the first invasion. They’ve lost their home, many have lost families. As someone who’s gone through something similar, I argued against it. The last thing we need is a few hotheads envenoming the conflict with some grand ideas about revenge.

Would you think ill of me if I admitted to have been thinking of our trip in the middle of such a serious meeting? I know it shouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things; I was ashamed of myself for letting such personal matters exist in that room. And yet, the thought burnt in my head, the idea that we might have to cancel our get-away and stay here to deal with the news nearly choked me. Sweet Shiva, I thought, Merciful Mother, give us that one moment of peace. Just once. Just let me have that one opportunity to forget everything but the man I love for a few fleeting hours.

I never pray, Gladio. Never. I don’t believe the Astrals ever worry about what us poor mortals think or wish for. But I had to ask because I couldn’t stand this being taken away from us. Not after everything we’ve had to go through to even get to this point.

But for now, it seems the dust is settling and we might get a chance to go after all.

I need to get a couple of hours of sleep and then get up to prepare the morning Council meeting. I didn’t get a chance to do it today and with the new reports, they’ll have to be brought up to speed. It’s mostly an academic exercise though. All the important decisions have already been made.

I haven’t said anything to Noct yet. I wanted him to have one more day of peace. He’ll probably be shaken tomorrow, be patient with him. He cares much more than he likes to admit. I doubt I’ll have time to swing by the training centre, but maybe Tuesday if all goes well.

I love you. I wish there was a way of saying it that didn’t seem to become stale over time. I love you. More than I can say.

Blaze

 


	173. Chapter 173

> Subject: **It never gets stale**
> 
> Mon, Nov 9 at 4:12 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Switching back to personal emails, so I'll be vague, but yeah, my father briefed me this morning before the Council meeting. Fuck. I didn't know what to say to Noct. You're probably better at this kind of thing than I am. If he were a little older I would have taken him out for a beer but His Majesty still thinks he's eight years old, you know. We worked up a good sweat though. That always helps.

Have you been in there all day? I stuck my head in before Noct's session and it looked like the elders were still going strong. I tried to catch your eye but I don't know if you saw me. Have you eaten a proper meal yet? Can I take you out for dinner? Someplace quiet where no one will see us. Let me steal you away from the Council. You must be exhausted.

Love you— miss you— B

P.S. I don't care if Titan himself brings the Disc crashing down, we're going on this trip. You deserve a little bit of selfishness, damn it.

 


	174. Chapter 174

> Subject: **It somehow doesn’t feel enough anymore.**
> 
> Mon, Nov 9 at 5:34 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Thank you for your solicitude. But I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your invitation. First, because I don’t like taking that kind of risk without proper planning, but mostly because I am dead on my feet and I need to go home and get some sleep. I’ve slept maybe ninety minutes in the past twenty-four hours and I’m that close to keeling over.

Thank you for looking after Noct today when I was occupied. By the way, I’ve given him the day off tomorrow, so no training in the afternoon for you either. Prompto has strict instructions to bring a new video game and lots of awful snacks I want to know nothing about, to close the curtains and spend the whole day making sure Noctis doesn’t think about anything other than being entertained. Before you say I’m coddling him, he’s rather rattled and I couldn’t ignore it. He hugged me tonight before he went home. Just like that. He hadn’t done that since he was ten. Sometimes, I wish I could take his burden away even if only for a little while. He’s too young to shoulder it all.

I have a few loose ends to tie with the Council paperwork and I’ll go home. And yes, I have leftovers there. I won’t starve, I promise. Anyway, I should be another hour still. And I was thinking - maybe selfishly - that since I’m in no state to drive and if you had nothing better to do, you might want to give me a ride home? I look exhausted enough that no one will see anything in it but an act of gracious charity on your part. I know it hardly compares to a nice dinner, so don’t worry if you’re otherwise engaged, I’ll get a taxi.

But if it makes any difference, I’d let you hold my hand the whole way - glove off - as long as you keep your eyes on the road.

Love you,

Blaze

P.S. If you have no plans for your impromptu free time tomorrow afternoon, would you like to spar with me instead of Noct? It can all be part of your evaluation, after all.

 


	175. Chapter 175

> Subject: **It's all I need**
> 
> Mon, Nov 9 at 5:45 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Love,

I don't think you're coddling him. He deserves a bit of peace as much as you do. And if it means I get to spar with you tomorrow, so much the better. (For the sake of evaluation! Not because I'm wondering how many rounds we'll have to go before I manage to pin you. I might have a weight advantage but I have a suspicion you're fast.)

And of course I'll drive you home. You didn't have to tempt me with your bare hand. (A delicious offering nevertheless.) Text me when you're ready and I'll bring the car round to the drive in front of the Citadel.

I've made a nest of mats in the training room and I'm curled up, phone in my lap, writing to you. It's my favorite position. I’ll spend the next hour in a blissful euphoria of planning for our trip.

B.

 


	176. Chapter 176

 

 

 

[IGNIS]: Okay. All done. Heading for the front drive now. 

[GLADIO]: On my way. I'll only be a minute

 


	177. Chapter 177

> Subject: **I guess I’ll just have to keep on saying it then.**
> 
> Tue, Nov 10 at 6:44 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I don’t even know if I thanked you properly for driving me home last night. I remember the whole ride in a rather blurry daze, but enough to know you were a perfect gentleman. Well, if we forget about that kiss on my wrist before I left. But I rather like recalling it. Still as startling and lovely the second time around. Even with how exhausted I was, the things that minute, gentle gesture, made me feel… The intensity of what we share scares me at times. That trip away is alluring - Astrals know I crave it; yet, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to be nervous about it. Not about you. Never about you. But this is all so foreign to me. I’m not used to dealing with such unknowns, especially ones that make my heart beat so much faster from a mere thought. It won’t stop me though. I trust you. You’ll show us the way and I’ll let my steps match yours.

Anyway, I unfortunately have no time to reminisce or daydream further, I need to get to work. I’ll see you later, 3pm at the training centre. I’m taking this seriously and bringing my best pair of daggers. See if you can catch me, darling.

Love you,

Blaze

 


	178. Chapter 178

 

 

Today 4:38 PM

[GLADIO]: Hey Peaches, keep practicing your piano, I’m on my way. Sorry, my sparring session ran over.

[IRIS]: Did you knock Noct out again?

[GLADIO]: No, I was sparring with Ignis.

[IRIS]: Oh? Did you knock him out?

[GLADIO]: Nah, could barely get a hit in. He’s like a quicksilver snake. I’m exhausted.

[IRIS]: So who won?

[GLADIO]: No idea. Pinned him down for like ten seconds, but I blinked and he’d wriggled himself free. We had to stop when we both ran out of breath.

[IRIS]: Wait until the black spots are gone from your eyes to drive.

[GLADIO]: I know! It happened once!

[IRIS]: And we all know it’ll happen again.

[GLADIO]: Brat.

[IRIS]: Idiot.

[GLADIO]: Don’t move.

[IRIS]: Not like I can go anywhere without you, is it?

[GLADIO]: I’m on my way. :)

 


	179. Chapter 179

> Subject: **Please do**
> 
> Tue, Nov 10 at 8:43 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

How's Noct doing? I almost feel guilty, not taking him along with us. (Not really. I don't feel guilty at all.) I probably owe him a fishing trip sometime soon. Does he ever talk about fishing with you? I started teaching him a few years ago. It seemed like a hobby he might enjoy. He's usually so restless and distracted in the city. And there's something meditative about fishing. There's the excitement of hooking a fish, of course, but it's mostly long hours spent staring at the water. Not a bad way to enjoy a day.

My mother had a favorite seafood paella recipe from the island where she grew up. I think you might like it better than packaged noodles and boiled water. I went shopping this afternoon after we finished sparring. The fish, I'll catch for us before dinner. Nothing better than freshly caught fish.

 

  * 4 medium Lucian tomatoes (about 1 pound)
  * ¼ teaspoon crushed saffron threads
  * 2 cups chickatrice stock
  * 1 cup dry Veldorian white wine
  * 6 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  * Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
  * 2 dozen medium Caem pinkshrimp, shelled and deveined, tails on (about 12 ounces)
  * 8 ounces fresh fish, skin removed and cut into 2-inch chunks
  * 8 ounces Galahd chorizo, cut into thin diagonal slices
  * 1 medium bulbous wild onion, peeled and chopped
  * 1 red bell pepper, cored and chopped 1 green bell pepper, cored and chopped
  * 4 Kettier garlic cloves, peeled and minced or pressed
  * 1 tablespoon smoked paprika
  * 2 dozen Cleigne mollusks, scrubbed, beards pulled off
  * 8 ounces Saxham or Arborio rice
  * 1 bunch flat-leaf parsley, chopped



Coarsely grate tomatoes into a bowl and discard the skins. Toast saffron in a large saucepan over medium heat for about 2 minutes, stirring frequently. Add broth and wine, bring to a boil, reduce heat to very low, and cover.

Prepare grill for medium direct heat. Place a medium enameled paella pan on the grill and add 4 tablespoons olive oil. Season the shrimp and fish with salt and pepper and add to the pan along with the chorizo. Cook, turning occasionally, until golden brown, about 5 minutes. Transfer to a plate and set aside.

Add onion and peppers and cook until onion is softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in tomatoes and continue to sauté, stirring frequently, until liquid evaporates and paste turns a shade darker, about 10 minutes. Stir in the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil, garlic, and paprika. Sauté for a few minutes, until garlic is golden. Add rice. Mix well and pat flat.

Pour hot saffron liquid evenly over rice. Simmer for 10–12 minutes without stirring, rotating pan if needed to cook evenly. Nestle in mollusks around the rim of the pan, hinge-side down. Arrange shrimp, fish, and chorizo on top. Continue to cook without stirring until mollusks have opened and rice has absorbed the liquid and is al dente, 5–10 minutes.

Remove paella from heat and cover loosely with foil. Let stand for about 5 minutes. Uncover and scatter with parsley. Makes 4 servings.

 

***

 

I know it's no good telling you not to be nervous, because you will be anyway. But remember it doesn't have to be anything more than a camping trip, and you like cooking. We'll catch a fish, make paella, stand around the fire with smoke in our faces, warming our hands over the pan. It'll be fun.

 


	180. Chapter 180

> Subject: **Two days (yes, I waited an extra ten minutes to be able to send this)**
> 
> Wed, Nov 11 at 12:02 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Noct is doing okay. I went over tonight; Prompto was still there. I brought pancake batter and let them cook it. They decided they had to learn to flip pancakes up properly. I demonstrated and they said they got it with youthful overconfidence. So I sat down and watched.

It was a disaster. Whatever you’re imagining, trust me, it was worse. Way worse. I’m sending a cleaning crew over tomorrow because I don’t have enough free time to clean that flat considering the state it’s currently in. But they had fun. They were laughing.

Later, I taught them how to play poker using mini pancakes as chips. Don’t tell His Majesty, he’ll have my head for teaching his son to gamble. But they liked it. They looked so proud playing a grown-up game. They can be charmingly predictable sometimes and I know how to push all their buttons. It’s helpful when I need to improve their mood.

Got home an hour ago, tired but satisfied. It was a good use of my time.

Speaking of, I very much enjoyed our sparring practice this afternoon. Maybe we could make it a regular thing? Getting familiar with each other’s fighting style will help us protect Noctis more effectively, we don’t even need to come up with an excuse to spend that time together.

Which reminds me, I’d like to have an informal chat about your plans for Noct’s training in the coming months / years so I can finish your evaluation. Have you got any time on Thursday? You could come to my office as long as you promise to be nice to the admin staff.

Enough about work though. That recipe looks amazing. I can just imagine how wonderful it’ll smell, such a delicate mix of spices and flavours. Thank you. I am really looking forward to our cooking time now. You can show me how to fish as well. Noctis does, indeed, talk about it a lot. You did good finding him such a calming hobby. But I’m afraid I know little about it, so I’ll be grateful for any wisdom you’d like to impart to me. I was thinking I might also bring what we need to make Altissian toast for breakfast. It’s easy enough and it will bring back memories.

And you’re right; I’ll be nervous, it’s unavoidable. But don’t think for a second that it translates into reluctance towards taking things further or that I’m going to go all prudish on you. I very much not want for this to only be a ‘camping trip.’ I’ve told you before how badly I wanted you. That hasn’t changed. If anything, spending time with you recently has only made that urge stronger. I’ve been looking forward to not having to play a part around you for too long now to forgo such an opportunity. Even if I know it’ll be a short-lived one.

I guess what I’m saying is, sorry, darling, I am absolutely going to take advantage of you. I just can’t promise to be as smooth as I’d like in the process; this is unknown territory for me. But one I’d very much like to explore. And I trust you to guide me through it.

I’m going to go to bed and dream about it. Two more days and ‘love you’ can become more than a few sweet words.

Blaze

 


	181. Chapter 181

> Subject: **I bow to your wisdom in most things but this: it won't be short-lived**
> 
> Wed, Nov 11 at 9:26 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

It's still a miracle to me, Ignis, that you want me as much as I want you. The idea that I'll be able to take you in my arms, only two nights from now, is brilliant and beautiful and so huge as to drown out all other thought. But I don't want you to feel committed to any course of action, as much as you desire it now. For all the planning we're putting into this, I don't want you to arrive at that haven and feel as if there's no turning back. I promise you now, emphatically and vehemently, that I will be grateful and joyful for whatever spontaneous connection we share, even if it's only a kiss. Only a kiss! How small those words make it sound. How enormous a gesture, and one that I've been craving for months.

I know you prefer smoothness and expertise in most things. Don't think I expect nor that I want it. This will be our first moment of real privacy together, to enjoy the touch of skin to skin we've been fantasizing about for so long, and it would be odd if there weren't some awkwardness to it. We'll have to learn what we like, together, and no amount of experience could prepare us for that. We'll both be starting from the same place, in mutual ignorance, but willing to discover what brings us each pleasure. I think you'll find me an eager student, and I'll do my best to be a useful guide.

I'll come by your office tomorrow after four, if you're available then. And I grudgingly agree to be cordial to the staff, but if I hear the slightest whisper of a wager my sword's coming out. (Joking!) Same time next Tuesday for sparring, shall we?

Love and a sugared toast kiss,

Behemoth

 


	182. Chapter 182

> Subject: **I was only talking about this one trip.**
> 
> Wed, Nov 11 at 11:17 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I only meant this opportunity to be with you away from prying eyes would be short-lived. I hope - irrationally perhaps - that this story of ours can last much longer, despite the difficulties we face. But I cannot forget that, however lovely our time together, we will have to return on Sunday and fall back into a life of secrecy and utmost discretion.

I dislike that fact and I feel guilty for asking this of you, but I can see no way around it. Not if we want to continue being together, not when going public could endanger my position and my ability to look after Noct.

But a miracle, darling? Me wanting you? Hardly. I feel sometimes that, for all your pride and bravado, you do not seem to realise what a wonderful person you are. I know many around you - me included until too recently, I’m ashamed to admit - don’t try to see beneath the image projected by your birth, your upbringing and your title.

I’ve been lucky, so lucky, to get to know you in such an intimate manner away from all preconceptions and misleading assumptions, to find out who you really are, how beautiful and caring your soul is, how you worry and struggle with doubts and burden yourself with so much affection and responsibilities for the people you love, but still press on. So sensitive and solicitous, yet so brave.

I love you and I want you, Gladio. It’s no miracle, it’s your own doing. With each of your words, with the consideration and affection your letters always display, I fall a bit more for you. Even if I didn’t think it was possible. You always put me first, always want me to be unfettered enough to be comfortable. You’re caring and selfless to a fault and I love you for it. So intensely I struggle to come to grip with my own feelings and the words seem bland in comparison when I write them.

I’m sorry I have so little to give back in return, only doubts and restrictions and hurtful secrecy. You deserve more. Better. I know that but I’m selfish. And if you’ll have me, I can’t turn away. You’re too precious to me, and I’m not strong enough. Not anymore. I’ll be yours for as long as you want to put up with me. And I’ll do all I can - within those bitter and unbending principles that rule my life - to love and care for you, to try to make it worth all your efforts and devotion. Even if I doubt it’ll ever be enough.

I’ll see you tomorrow after four. And on Friday for our road trip. We’ll take it one step at a time, let those feelings guide us. Just tell me to stop if you catch me overthinking things again. I’ll listen to you.

Next Tuesday for sparring is fine, but can we make it an evening thing? Maybe 8pm? There’ll be less people in the training centre and it shouldn’t interfere with our usual schedules.

In love and dreams,

Blaze

 


	183. Chapter 183

> Subject: **Tonight there's an empty haven out there waiting for us patiently**
> 
> Wed, Nov 11 at 11:52 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

My Blaze,

You don't know how glad that makes me; I did think you meant that we were short-lived, not the trip, and you have no idea how ready I was to argue with you all night about it. It's selfish, to be so unwilling to give you up. Especially when it's you who risks everything. I know that; don't think I don't. And you call me selfless—

Such lovely words you write. You're too kind to me. You've already given me enough, far more than I deserve. But let's not talk of that. Tonight I'm imagining the light of the campfire on your face. Tonight I'm imagining that deep silence that can't be found anywhere in the city. Just the snap of the fire, and your voice, low and sweet.

Good night, love.

 


	184. Chapter 184

> Subject: **Why is packing so difficult?**
> 
> Thu, Nov 12 at 9:51 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I’m officially packing for our trip. I can’t believe it’s only a few hours away. I’ve got all the essentials, obviously, including a rather substantial first aid kit, so don’t worry about that; but I still have a bit of room in my pack and I’m trying to decide what to bring.

I’m taking _The Red Mage of Mysidia_ with me; I thought we might want to read our favourite passages together at some point, realise how far we’ve come and how lucky we are. What else do you think we’d enjoy? I have some star maps, playing cards, a treatise on magical defence by Queen Beza’s minister of magic (yes, that last one is a joke… although you did say you’d enjoy listening to me read just about anything, so I guess I could always bring it). Are you taking any music with you? I’ve unfortunately left my player in Noct’s car as it’s usually where I listen to it, but I could swing by to get it in the morning.

On another note, I really enjoyed the discussion we had this afternoon about Noct’s education. I know our personal affairs often take precedent - oh so lovingly, but we should make more time for that kind of chat as well. You have interesting ideas, and while we’ll never agree on everything, your perspective is fascinating. Thank you for sharing it so candidly with me.

I must cut this short. I have a lot of work to go through this evening to be able to escape with you tomorrow. Do not concern yourself, however, nothing could motivate me more. I’ll have it all done quickly enough.

I love you. See you tomorrow and much more.

Blaze

 


	185. Chapter 185

> Subject: **There's a giant pile on the floor of my room and no way it's all fitting in a rucksack**
> 
> Thu, Nov 12 at 10:16 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Sweetest Blaze,

Isn't it weird that this is really happening? After all our daydreaming and fantasies? I keep stopping in the middle of packing to pinch myself.

Okay, I've got the paella pan, recipe ingredients, coffee, eggs, bacon, fishing gear, tent, sleeping bags, pillows, extra blankets, folding chairs, cooler, cookstove, lantern, flashlights, extra batteries, can opener, binoculars, sun cream, bug spray, and not a single book because I'm not wasting any time staring at that when I could be staring at you. I've never had you all to myself before! I'm going to enjoy every minute. But do bring _The Red Mage,_ that'll be fun. Even Queen Beza if you like! You did say you had extra room. (I would also recommend excessive pairs of socks. No such thing as too many.)

We can stop somewhere outside the gates for firewood, water, terrible road snacks. (Nutrition rules don't apply on camping trips; we're in agreement there, right?) We'll have to stop anyway because I don't know if we'll be able to make it all the way to the haven without at least a touch. We can get far enough away from the city that you won't see a human structure or vehicle no matter which direction you look. And then finally, finally, finally I'm going to cup your face in my hands. Memorize the look in your eyes. Kiss you, deeply. Make up for lost time.

There's a music player in my dad's car. Bring whatever you'd like. I'll pick you up at one.

I love you,

Gladio

 


	186. Chapter 186

> Subject: **Today’s the day and I feel I’m going to wake up and have made it all up.**
> 
> Fri, Nov 13 at 6:15 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

My dearest love,

I still can’t quite believe this trip is happening. It is definitely odd to think that in a few hours we’ll be together and leave Insomnia behind. Almost unreal. We’ve been dreaming of a few peaceful moments that’d be ours for so long, I keep on expecting something to happen to prevent us from going.

I’m sorry. I do not mean to come across as a bird of ill omen. Being happy, alone with you, even if only for a few hours, just sounds too good to be true. But I won’t let those doubts stop us now.

I bowed to your wisdom and stuffed every bit of room left in my pack with extra pairs of socks. Still bringing _The Red Mage_ since you said a little while ago that you’d like to hear me read. But I might struggle to concentrate if you stare as intensely as you write.

About the road trip, I’ll make you a deal. I won’t comment on what you eat, if you don’t comment on how many Ebony I drink. Seems fair.

As for that kiss… you need to promise to not distract me as I drive. Just the idea of it… your words… I had to close my eyes and remember how to breathe. But I won’t deny you the privilege. Shiva knows I crave it too. I will find us a secluded spot once we’re far enough away. We’ll have, however, to remind ourselves to be reasonable. It’s a long way to the haven and I can already foresee how easy it will be for me to lose myself in you. Sleeping on a lay-by because we lost track of time would be disappointing to say the least.

Anyway, I must cut this short else I make you wait later and that is just an unacceptable thought.

Wholly yours,

Blaze

 


	187. Chapter 187

 

 

 

A picture of a piece of purple fabric tied to a tree branch followed by a list that reads:

**The Hunter Guild’s Haven Colour Signals**

  * Black: Danger - Haven compromised - Do not approach
  * Red: Injured - Assistance required
  * Green: Camp set - Joyful company and food on offer
  * Blue: Lost - supplies and directions required
  * Pink: Camp set - Company with benefits on offer
  * Orange: Hunting goods for trade
  * Purple: Private affairs - do not disturb



 


	188. Chapter 188

 

 

Today 4:28 PM

[GLADIO]: Hey Peaches, are you being good? We made it safe and sound. Look how pretty the waterfalls are! Going swimming now while there’s still a bit of daylight. Wish you were here. Be back Sunday xoxo

[GLADIO]: [photo of waterfalls and a lake]

 


	189. Chapter 189

 

 

A star chart of the Lucis evening sky in the Autumn showing the position of the main visible constellations: 

  * The King
  * Leviathan
  * Ramuh
  * Falling Curse
  * Titan
  * Ifrit
  * The Betrayed
  * The Judge
  * Bahamut
  * Solheim's Gates
  * Shiva
  * The Oracle
  * Garuda  




 


	190. Chapter 190

 

 

(Above is a note which reads:

I wanted to keep watching you sleep but I did promise you fresh caught fish and it’s getting a bit late since we drifted back to dreams after that gorgeous sunrise. You were amazing. I love you. I’ll be down by the lake—come find me when you’re awake. B)

 


	191. Chapter 191

 

 

(Above is a photograph of two gutted fish hanging from a tree.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also Chocobobutt has set up a Discord room for everyone to use to chat about all things Classified (and lots of other more general discussions as well :P). If you would like to come along, the invite link is: <https://discord.gg/nEjRQXB> ).


	192. Chapter 192

 

 

(Above is a photograph of pan of paella: rice, fish, shrimp, mussels, chorizo, and parsley.)

 


	193. Chapter 193

 

 

(Above is a gif of tree branches fluttering in heavy rain.)

 


	194. Chapter 194

 

 

(Above is a photograph of two plates of Altissian toast, topped with berries, next to a bouquet of flowers.)

 


	195. Chapter 195

> Subject: **How the hours flew**
> 
> Sun, Nov 15 at 8:39 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hey, gorgeous, I miss you already. I'm curled up in bed writing this letter and it's so empty without you. I miss being able to reach out and put my hand on your flank, where your skin is so soft it feels as if I might scratch you with my calloused fingers. But you didn't seem to mind. I've never seen that expression on your face, love. Not until now. The way you tipped your sleepy face up to mine, the way a smile grew slowly on your lips as our eyes met—I can't get enough.

Thank you for taking this risk. I know it wasn't easy. But oh, by the Six, was it ever worth it. I still have the image in my head of you stretched out on the blankets, your skin orange and gold with firelight and not a stitch of clothing to interrupt the perfect line of your body. But my favorite part was how happy you looked, how relaxed. As if you could lie there forever and let me admire you. (Well, until you got impatient and pulled me down into your arms.)

So much love. It's only been hours since we parted and already I'm going out of my mind missing you,

Your Behemoth, your Gladio, always and forever

P.S. Your neighbor gave me quite the once-over when I was dropping you off. How much does she know??

 


	196. Chapter 196

 

> Subject: **It feels so bittersweet.**
> 
> Sun, Nov 15 at 11:48 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I can’t believe it’s already over. Suddenly, I’m left alone with nothing but lovely memories. I’d never noticed before how empty - almost clinical - my flat looks. I never paid attention. It was a place to sleep, sometimes to hide from the world; but it looks so unfamiliar and bare right now.

I’ve unpacked, had a shower, started a washing cycle on autopilot. And I’ve been sitting there, waiting for it to finish, staring at my hand, remembering how you never let go, all the way back to the car, despite the narrow path and all the packs we were carrying. You just held my hand so artlessly, warm and solid as always. And I never wanted us to get there. But we did and you took one look at me and you knew. I still see that smile you gave me - almost apologetic, I can feel your lips there brushing over my knuckles before you finally released me.

I just wanted to tell you again then, how much you mean to me, how much I love you. But it would have made it harder for us, so I didn’t. Still, I want you to hear it now that we’re back and safe, that we don’t need to be brave anymore to tear ourselves away from each other.

I love you.

As for my neighbour, don’t worry about her. She cares a lot, and she likes to gossip even more. But everyone in the building knows to take anything she says with a grain of salt. Cor dropped me off after training a couple of times last year. For about a month, she tried to make me admit he was my sugar daddy. It was kind of hilarious at the time. But she gave up in the end. It’ll be the same here as long as we’re careful.

 

~ ~ ~

 

I hung the washing up, put porridge in the slow-cooker, laid out my suit for the morning. Just going through the motions as always. So I can get to work on time. The whole thing feels fake, like I’m putting on a performance. What did you do to me in those few hours we spent away?

Don’t answer that. I know very well what you did. All of it. I haven’t forgotten a second we spent together.

I should go to bed, but I know I won’t sleep. Not yet. My nerves are buzzing under my skin, raw and craving. I miss you so much. And I don’t want to forget. I never want to forget what we shared.

I think back on our beloved fantasies and while they make for fond memories, they pale in comparison of how real your skin felt against mine, your hands, your lips, the heavy weight of your cock, so hard as it brushed against my thigh. I want to remember how it felt discovering all this for the first time, discovering you, warm and alive under my fingertips, shuddering from a touch of my tongue, that most beautiful look on your face when pleasure washed over you.

Would you think me foolish if I asked you to help? To tell me what you remember, how you remember it.

And, yes, of course, it was more than a worthwhile risk to take. But that luxury is not something we’ll be able to afford often. And I want to recall it all, with you. It’s the closest we’ll probably get to live through these experiences again in a long while.

So I shall start, darling, hoping you’ll want to carry on.

You were so good for that first hour of our trip, as we left Insomnia behind, telling me about Iris’s antics and the new Glaives recruits. But after we stopped for firewood and gas, I remember how low and rich your voice sounded, how I shivered when you gave me a side glance and said you were getting impatient. There was a hint of humour in your words, but your smile was a sultry promise.

I didn’t drive far, only half a mile or so, until I found a branching forestry path. And I pulled in. My heart was beating so fast; I could feel it thumping away against my ribs. But you didn’t push, didn’t move. You waited until I turned the engine off, until I felt composed enough to look at you. Your hand came to rest, warm and comforting, against my cheek.

‘You’re okay?’ you asked. I nodded; I didn’t really trust my voice at that moment. You said something about stopping you if I needed, I was hardly listening. Stopping you was about as far from my mind as it could get. Still, I appreciated the gesture.

I don’t remember planning it, I just know I felt the fabric of your collar under my fingers. Grabbing it and pulling you to me was instinctive. You didn’t resist, just parted your lips a touch and fitted your mouth to mine. Soft and careful. You took your time. Your hands were gentle, your breath warm. It was better than anything I’d imagined. Because it was you, the real you, there with me and no fantasy could beat that.

I couldn’t stop myself. I had to thread my fingers through your hair as I’d promised so often, twist it just a touch. And you groaned, finally relaxing that perfect control of yours. That first touch of your tongue was electrifying. I don’t remember much after that. Glimpses. Sensations. Velvet heat. That smug - yet loving - smile you wore when you finally pulled back. You sounded gruff when you pointed out we had to cut this short if we were to make it to the haven at a reasonable time, as I’d warned.

You were right, of course, so I let you go, started driving again, knowing each mile got us closer to more privacy and comfort. I could feel the weight of your eyes on me the whole way. They felt different now; hungry, scorching. It took all my self-control to focus on the road until we arrived.

So, dearest, would you tell me what you remember happening next?

Missing you and loving you. Always,

Blaze

 


	197. Chapter 197

> Subject: **Sweet like the berries you fed me this morning, overripe and bursting on my tongue**
> 
> Mon, Nov 16 at 1:32 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Oh, Blaze. Reading that made me _groan._ Again. How well you describe that kiss. And how I couldn't stop staring at you after. It was as if you'd undergone some subtle and almost imperceptible transformation. Not just the sweet Blaze of our letters and fantasies but now also Ignis, the man next to me, who smells faintly of something earthy, sandalwood maybe—your aftershave? Whose hands are stronger and more possessive than I'd expected, teeth too—you gave a little nip to my bottom lip that sent shivers down my spine. That's what I was thinking of as I watched you.

And you're beautiful when you're driving. Precise and focused, not a wasted gesture. We'd been talking so much at the start of the trip that we never bothered to put on music, but after a while you reached for the glove compartment and started digging through the old memory sticks my father keeps there. You picked one at random and put it in. When I recognized it I said quickly, "No, you don't want to listen to opera, let's put on your music—" and you said, "Shhh." The impossibly clear high notes filled the car.

She would have loved you, Blaze. She would have insisted that I invite you to dinner, and after you went home she would have laughed and asked how I'd managed to land such a catch.

 

***

 

We took off our clothes and left them on the rock. And then you stood there smiling at me, tall and elegant, like a pale flame against the backdrop of the waterfall, wearing nothing but your gloves.

"Are you wearing them in the water?" I asked. You took a step forward, so close I could feel the warmth of your bare skin, and you brushed the back of your hand against my cheek. The fabric caught at the hairs on my jawline and tugged lightly.

"I have to leave something to your imagination, don't I?" Then I saw you were teasing, and we both started laughing at the same time. You pulled them off and dove into the water.

The sun was still shining brightly, enough that the shock of cold water wasn't unpleasant. After a while the stiff spikes of your hair dissolved into strands that hung down over your eyes. We splashed each other, I swam deep and grabbed your ankle, pulling you under. You twisted away and toppled me backwards. We wrestled until we were breathless.

I pushed you back against the smooth rocks under the waterfall. Despite the freezing water you were hard against my stomach. Your tongue slipped easily into my mouth, pointed and curious. You grabbed handfuls of my ass and pulled me tight against you. Your skin was slippery, like a sea creature's. And time slowed down. The moments stretched long, luxurious, until eventually you started to shiver and I drew you away, reluctant, from the rocks. "There's coffee at the campsite," I coaxed. "Coffee and fire." You grinned at me.

"Humanity's finest inventions."

We dried off as best we could with the towels we'd brought down to the water's edge, hurrying; the sun was dipping low by then, touching the rim of the mountains, and there was a chill in the air. I took your hand as we walked back to camp. Your fingers were icy cold in mine, but solid, comforting. I couldn't believe you were real. It felt as if we'd stepped into one of our stories. I didn't bother setting up the tent but buried you instead in armfuls of blankets, until only your head stuck out, and then I built up the enormous fire I'd promised you. When it was roaring I burrowed in next to you. I bumped your glasses with my nose, clumsily, and you laughed with delight and tugged me closer. I didn't want to let you go.

I don't want to ever forget this.

Tell me how it felt for you, love. Tell me about your first time.

 


	198. Chapter 198

 

 

(amazing drawing made by [Iontorch](http://iontorch.tumblr.com/post/162431462970/so-my-illustration-for-the-fanfic-clas-ssified-is) (Wabbajacked in the comments on Ao3). Thank you so much. <3 Go give them all the love. ^____^)

 


	199. Chapter 199

> Subject: **Teaching evaluation results.**
> 
> Mon, Nov 16 at 1:37 PM
> 
> From: teachingstandards@insomnia.ac.lux
> 
> To: Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

Mr Amicitia,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am delighted to inform you that you have passed your yearly evaluation without need for further training, although some mandatory requirements regarding your future professional activities have been added by your assessor. You will be expected to fulfil them from the second semester of this academic year and every year thereafter, unless a new evaluation decides otherwise.

Please find attached to this email a summary of the evaluation report. The full report will be sent to you within the week. Should you want to dispute the report’s conclusion or mandatory requirements, contact my office at the address above explaining your grievances in full. If your concerns are of an ethical nature, please address your letter to the University’s Board of Ethics at ethics@insomnia.ac.lux.

Kind regards,

SR.

 

_Sheila Rasmussen_

_Head of Teaching Standards_

_Department of Education_

_University of Insomnia_

 

 

**Auxiliary teaching staff evaluation - Result Summary**

**Name:** Gladiolus Amicitia

| 

**Assessor:** Dr Ignis Scientia  
  
---|---  
  
**Date Completed:** November, 1

| 

**Conclusion:** Passed with conditions  
  
**Ethical considerations / Conflict of interest if applicable:**

_The University Ethics Committee has been informed of an existing professional relationship between the subject of this evaluation and the assessor, in which executive powers are weighted in favour of the subject. After careful consideration, the Committee decided that the assessor’s experience with the remarkably specific professional context studied here was desirable despite the ethical concerns raised._

_The decision to proceed fully was therefore left to the judgement of the assessor, with the possibility to recuse himself if any concerns about his ability to carry out his task fairly should arise._  
  
**Teaching content:** Physical Education and Fighting Arts for His Royal Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum  
  
**Teaching methods:** Practical sessions - currently 40% physical training and 60% fighting training, also includes formal teaching integrated to the practical sessions regarding weapon selection and maintenance, safe exercise techniques, exercise and nutrition, etc.   
  
**Evaluation overview:**

  * ****5 practical sessions of Dr Scientia’s choice witnessed either fully or partially, including one session with an extra student
  * ****2 practical sessions of Mr Amicitia’s choice witnessed fully
  * ****1 full day of survival demonstration witnessed as elected by Mr Amicitia.

  
  
**Conclusions:** Mr Amicitia demonstrated a constant and remarkable sense of pedagogy throughout his teaching. In particular, his skill at encouraging his sometime reluctant student without alienating him deserves to be acknowledged. His approach is solid and consistent, if occasionally lacking an imaginative edge that would be helpful in preventing the establishment of a sense of routine conducive to boredom. The unique nature of Mr Amicitia’s position presents unique challenges that must be recognised and addressed. While Mr Amicitia’s current knowledge of modern pedagogy and teaching methods is very respectable thanks to his recently acquired qualifications, there is a risk that the isolation and prestige of his appointment might lead him to become entrenched overtime in teaching habits and long-held academic opinions. Further involvement and discussions with fellow teaching peers - including university-based work - is therefore indispensable to avoid this pitfall and ensure Mr Amicitia’s knowledge and skills stay current and stimulated.  
  
**Pass conditions if applicable (mandatory):**

  * Guest participation to the yearly conference organised by the University’s Department of Physical Education and Fighting Arts.
  * Teaching a half-day seminar on practical nutrition every six months for the Department (to liaise with Head of Department and rest of faculty regarding content and delivery)
  * Further first-aid training to enhance survival skills (current qualifications at level B, to go up to C minimum)

  
  
**Suggestions:** On a voluntary basis (with credits obtained counting towards yearly continuous professional development), to attend relevant university lectures and seminars as a guest. For example (dates TBA): 

  * ****_A lesson in intuitive teaching. See the problem?_ by Dr Ignis Scientia
  * ****_The discipline of consequence_ s by Dr Lutia Auggie
  * ****_The utilities of physical truths_ by Pr Ultros Typhon
  * ****_The convertibility of intellectual forces_ by Dr Ignis Scientia

  
  
I confirm the above record to be correct and reflect my truthful observations and conclusions, 

 _Ignis Scientia_ (+ seal of the University of Insomnia with the motto  _Et lux in tenebris_ _lucet_ )

 


	200. Chapter 200

> Subject: **I’ve spent half the night writing this, and while I might struggle in the morning, I won’t regret a second of it… Just imagine how badly I want you right now.**
> 
> Tue, Nov 17 at 2:53 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Thank you for humouring me. Those recollections of ours make me shiver in a way no dream can. It helps me remember it was real. All of it. All those lovely images that fill my mind since we parted ways. It all happened in this fragment of peace we wrestled from the world’s grip.

I remember sitting there, watching you build the fire, and part of me wanted to get up and help - it was the polite thing to do after all, but I couldn’t act on it. No, I was too absorbed, too fascinated, by the scene you had set. It was an exquisite performance. The twilight sky stretching above the trees in shreds of faint purple quickly swallowed by the night. Your silhouette tall and sharp, a dark shadow against the faint light of the runes, moving so gracefully you seemed to be dancing. I could hear the waterfall faintly in the distance, a clear, crystalline sound that lulled the landscape to sleep. When you started the fire, everything changed. The runes faded out, and light swirled around you in warm, shimmering tones. Barely caressing at first. But as the flames grew, swaying just a touch with the wind, they illuminated your skin, the perfect curves of your biceps, the long chiseled planes of your back, the bunched muscles in your thighs.

I’m the one with the names linked to fire, but in that moment, you looked made of the same flames you were feeding and I could not fathom how that perfect and extravagant vision could want to be mine.

But then you came and sat by me, leant in to kiss me. My glasses got in the way; and as we started laughing, the spell broke. The magnificent otherworldly creature you’d been an instant before vanished to leave you there, smiling, warm and real against me. Still ridiculously easy on the eyes. It was better.

We slipped back into each other’s arms, mouths, hands so effortlessly. It was slow, still unfamiliar, clumsy at times, but it mattered little. It was so very good anyway. We hadn’t bothered putting our clothes back on - it’d seemed a remarkably distasteful and absurd course of action - and there was nothing but skin, some chilled, some burning… the blankets were warm and we tried to keep them draped over our shoulders, but we soon gave up, let them fall; they pooled around us and we just shuffled a bit closer to the fire.

To start with, it wasn’t that different from our earlier embrace in the water, but I soon realised that the freezing waterfall had kept me somewhat unaware of my own body’s reactions. I’d been able to focus on your kisses, your rather chaste caresses - you’d been so careful the whole time - without the distraction of an awakening and stubborn arousal. Not anymore.

That development wasn’t unwelcome but it changed everything. So far we’d been vaguely following the thread of that fantasy we once shared. Hardly consciously or closely, but it was there in the background urging us forward, taking away all awkwardness and uncertainty. This was different.

I remembered the words I wrote in that letter ‘we make love there, forget everything else for a while.’ A handful of words, so beautiful and evocative, so uncomplicated to type at the time, but that helped little when it came to taking that first step. Yet, I wanted nothing more. I wanted you. And I wanted to be yours. All at once.

But you paused. ‘It’s nightfall already. We should have dinner,’ you said, holding yourself very still and controlled. While the efforts you were obviously making for my sake were commendable, I cared little for control at that point. ‘Later,’ was all I could answer. I expected you to start kissing me again, but you didn’t move, just frowned slightly. ‘If you’re that hungry…’ I started, and I saw your gaze fall to my lips, fixed and starved. It was so ridiculous I had to punch your shoulder. We laughed, more carefree than I can remember ever being.

As we fell silent again, your hands came to hold me. They felt different, not caressing or teasing, but firm, purposeful. ‘Come here,’ you said so softly I guessed the words rather than heard them. Here turned out to be straddling your lap, a rather privileged position, since if I stayed on my knees, I could thread my fingers in your hair and for once I was the one tilting your head up to kiss you. It felt good; like you were mine, like I was in control. You yielded under my hands, my lips. I didn’t think at the time - I was in no state to - but I know you did this on purpose, giving me the lead, letting me calm down by regaining some of my usual assurance. I can still feel the weight of your hands on my hips, just resting there, an undemanding show of love, support and patience as I kissed you, letting my palms cradle your jaw, smooth your beard. Have I told you how much I love the contrasts you’ve created? The silkiness of the locks, the rough but even undercut, the rugged beard. If I close my eyes right now I can feel them each at my fingertips, all so different yet all you. Intimately you, in a way I can’t quite put into words.

Maybe I linger too much on small details, but they’re all precious to me, they come together to make up that night and I don’t want to forget any of it.

Your arousal was obvious by that point, as was mine, difficult to ignore. When I settled back down against you, finally breathless, letting my weight rest on your thighs, you leant forward, your temple against mine as you whispered in my ear. Your hand was on my hip still; fingertips dug into the muscles there, just hard enough to call attention to it.

‘Would you let me…’ was all you said. I breathed out a ‘yes,’ but the shudder I couldn’t control at your words spoke louder.

You showed no hesitation. Your hand closed around me. Up to now it’d been warm against my skin, but not there; it felt pleasantly cool wrapped around my burning cock. It was all I could do to bite my lip - hard - to not come at that simple contact. Knowing it was you, feeling you so intimately… I’d imagined it so many times, yet I was unprepared for it. It was overwhelming.

You could tell. You paused, shushed me softly, waited a few long seconds before readjusting your grip, testing the waters, and finally starting to move again. Slow and careful. ‘Breathe,’ you said, so close, pecking my lips. I could hear the smile in your words and I couldn’t even be mad at you for it. It was good advice. I’d forgotten.

It took me a little while to get back some control, especially since you were determined not to make it easy for me. But as enjoyable as that struggle was - and sweet Astrals was it ever - it wasn’t quite what I wanted. Maybe it was inane of me, but I wanted - needed - you there with me. That first time couldn’t be all about me, no matter how much you seemed to like it.

By the way, darling, do know that I very much enjoy how incapable of disguising your emotions you are. Never change.

‘Wait,’ I managed, closing my hand around your wrist. You froze for an instant, but smiled when I kissed you. My other hand trailed down from your neck to your pectorals. Your skin was damp with sweat already, I could feel your heartbeat under my fingers. I didn’t get further, however. Your hand closed around my arm, shifting us just a touch to give us more room. You bowed your head, forehead resting against mine, staring as I reached for you. You took a sharp breath as my fingers followed your length, learning its size, its shape; fascinated. But I never meant to tease. Not then, anyway. I took you in hand properly.

‘Come on, love,’ you said softly, lips brushing against my cheekbone. I didn’t have my glasses by that point. I don’t remember what happened to them; only that I found them to the side later. It was easy to follow your lead, to match your rhythm. For now, it was enough. There would be other times to experiment, I just wanted you there with me. And by the strangled curses you let out a few times, I was doing something right, despite faltering from time to time when you pushed me too far.

After a delicious while, you picked up the pace. Not much but enough to endanger my self-control, for my body to want to follow suit. You stopped me, your free hand tilting my chin up so you could meet my eyes.

‘Don’t rush, love. Don’t chase it,’ you said. Your voice was a low purr that made me shiver. ‘Just feel. Focus on that. On me. I’ll bring you there. I promise.’

As much as I wanted to give you anything you’d ask for, that was a tall order. It took me a while to figure out what you meant, to quiet my mind and let you take me apart. Completely. Skilfully. With your hand on me, of course, but also with your body against mine, muscles tensing and trembling in turn, sometimes in sync, sometimes in counterpoint, but always responding to each other perfectly.

We were so close, mouths brushing but too far gone to kiss properly, only able to let our breaths mingle, to watch as our eyes fluttered close at the clever twist of audacious fingers. I couldn’t look away. Seeing you like this, knowing it was my doing, feeling what you did to me, it was too much. I never wanted it to end.

It lasted longer than I thought it could, you were so very good at keeping us teetering on the edge. You didn’t want to let it end either. But I couldn’t resist you any longer. My body was fighting to surrender. I tried to tell you. I don’t remember what I said. I doubt it was very coherent. You understood anyway. ‘Right there with you, love,’ you managed, the words disjointed, choked out. Hearing you so flustered wrecked what little composure I had left.

My free hand was on the back of your neck, entwined in the locks there, a solid anchoring point as I got overwhelmed. Your eyes bore into mine, wide and awed for an instant, before I got swept away by blinding, searing pleasure.

I don’t know how long I stayed there against you, my forehead on your shoulder, feeling your chest rise and fall between us. As you’d promised, you’d been right there with me. After a little while, you leant to the side to grab one of the towels we’d brought back with us from the lake. I sat back then, watched as you cleaned yourself up before letting me do the same. When I looked up you were frowning. Your hand came to cup my cheek.

‘You’re all right?’

You sounded concerned. I wanted to laugh, but I still felt dazed. Probably why you were worried in the first place. I shook my head. ‘I don’t think “all right” does any of this justice.’ You smiled at that. Your arms wrapped around me as you pulled me close, kissed me. Tender and unhurried. It was too good to stop. Not until we got interrupted by a rather loud growl of your stomach, anyway. What followed can only be described as mildly hysterical laughter. Calming down was rather difficult when a single glance was enough to send us spiralling into another giggling fit. I ended up getting up to find my glasses and recover some control. After I put them on, I also located my pants but you yanked them out of my hands.

‘Uh, uh. No clothing.’

I don’t think I gratified that with an answer, only a raised eyebrow. ‘Just for tonight,’ you bargained. It sounded like you were begging, and Shiva forgive me but it was rather hot.

As it turns out, I seem to be pretty weak to you begging, darling. And maybe I shouldn’t have told you that. Don’t abuse it.

Anyway, I gave up on the pants, but wrapped a blanket around my shoulders because it was definitely getting cold now. I brought the backpack closer to the fire, handed you some of the rice balls we’d bought that afternoon when we’d stopped for firewood. You were remarkably quiet when we ate, staring at me the whole time with a half-smile. You seemed happy. It’s a good look on you.

It was too late for coffee, so I made tea. It was the least I could do after letting you start that huge fire on your own. You took your mug and warmed your hands on it, not as insensitive to the cold as you appeared. I remember thinking it was cute. And then thinking how incredible it was that I would find Gladiolus Amicitia cute. But there we were, darling.

You pulled the star map I’d brought out of the backpack, patted the blanket near you. We argued about the correct orientation for a few minutes. You were right because of course you were; but well, at least I had tested your survival skills in some small capacity, enough to make me feel better about the elaborate deception this trip was for the rest of the world.

Watching the stars was peaceful. We found the main constellations. I showed you a few smaller ones farmers still use to know when to sow crops. We lay there, at a right angle from each other, your head on my stomach, your fingers linked with mine, my free hand playing with your hair, idly gazing at the empty sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. But too soon the night got colder and I couldn’t stop myself from shivering despite the blanket. You moved then, stretched out by my side, added your blanket to mine. Your hands and arms were chilled from being exposed to the air but the rest of you was warm, lovely and inviting. We tried to go back to stargazing, made a valiant effort of it, but it was hopeless. You were too close and distracting, a temptation I had no intention to resist.

You stilled for a moment when my fingers traced the outlines of your arms, your shoulders, your chest down to your abs. You’re probably tired of people telling you how beautiful your body is, how it shows the perfect balance of strength and flexibility, how you’re a living work of art, a sculpture come to life; but I’d lie if I didn’t admit that I want to let my hands roam over you for hours on end, that I’ll never get tired of feeling every curve, every line chiseled in your flesh, smooth and firm under my fingertips. But you must know, darling, that this is not the part I love the most.

No, what I truly love is how when you watch me get lost, enraptured by your perfection under my hands, you look so fond. Your eyes grow soft, tender. You gaze at me and you don’t have to say anything, your expression shows so much affection I’m at a loss for words. I want to pull you to me and never let go. I want to tell you how much I love you but the words seem trite in comparison.

That’s how you looked at me that evening. For the first time. For a moment, I swear it brought tears to my eyes. After everything we went through and considering how precarious that story of ours still is, being on the receiving end of that look was a blessing I hardly felt I deserved.

But then you leant in, brushed your mouth against mine.

‘Tell me what you want,’ you asked.

‘You,’ I said. Such a simple truth, but one that inflamed something raw and alive deep within your gaze.

You propped yourself up, trapped me under you, your lips on my neck, teeth grazing. ‘Finally mine,’ you said, a low growl bringing goosebumps on my skin. I always thought I’d resent possessiveness, that I’d find it belittling and unappealing. How wrong I was… If it’s you… if it’s you, then there’s no need for second thought. ‘Yours,’ I agreed. You kissed me then, one of your hands in my hair, holding me just as you wanted. But your lips were coaxing and gentle, and I soon got lost in the soft, tender caress of your tongue. We’d shared so many kisses already; yet, it was still thrilling. If I pause from writing this now and think about it, about you leaning towards me, about feeling the warmth of your breath an instant before you brush your lips against mine, I can feel my nerves come alive, that shiver of anticipation burning under my skin. And you’re not even near. Maybe the thrill will never go away. Can’t say I dislike the idea.

I didn’t pay attention as you rearranged us on top of the sleeping bag with impressive dexterity, one of your legs between mine, your arm around my waist. I didn’t really notice until we brushed together and for an instant there was nothing but sparks of pleasure. And a silent promise for more. I arched against you, seeking that blissful contact again. You didn’t try to slow us down this time around. You responded in kind, kept moving. Intense. Feverish. Sure to be short-lived. Hands and mouths everywhere. Yours. Mine. The taste of salt clinging to your collarbones. The strangled sounds you ripped from my chest. So different. Still perfect and beautiful.

Most of it is a blur; I remember little but fervent and unfamiliar pleasure, the weight of your body and how quickly the autumn wind cooled the sweat on our skin. But we couldn’t feel the cold. You’ve always looked imposing, but never as much as in that moment. You were solid and unyielding against me. I could hardly see any of the starry sky, only your silhouette in sharp, gorgeous lines drawn by the now faint light of the fire as a foil to the night. I already knew I trusted you, but it was remarkable to note how I felt lying there. Serene. Safe. Loved. Without an ounce of apprehension or concern.

The first time had felt almost sacred, a long awaited act of love and communion. This was easy and instinctive, a simple search for mutual pleasure. Yet, the feeling of sharing it all with you was still as satisfying as before. I let go, basked in it. I didn’t feel the orgasm come. It crept up and overtook me suddenly. My arms were wrapped around your shoulders, and I buried my face in your neck as it happened. I didn’t let go when it was over. I waited, wanting to feel you move until you reached the brink of completion, tumbled over it, crying out against me. When I had finally caught my breath, you tensed, your arm was a vice around my waist, holding me tight. Warmth spread between us where we were both still in your hand, cradled against the smooth, firm planes of your abs. I fell back down on the sleeping bag then, opened my eyes. I only caught a glimpse of the pleasure painted on your features, before your jaw went slack, you gave your head a small shake and already you’d come back to yourself and were smiling at me.

I reached for you and you immediately complied for a couple of soft, indistinct minutes, until I yawned in the kiss. We laughed at yet another untimely interruption by insensitive physiology, still bright and happy despite our exhaustion. But we didn’t fight it, got ourselves ready to sleep. You zipped up the sleeping bag, bunched up a couple of extra blankets around us, pulled me back in your arms. I remember my lips brushing your shoulder. We were so close. Everything was warm. Even the sounds of the wild around us had the rhythm of a lullaby. I must have fallen asleep right after.

When I opened my eyes again, light had returned, but it was faint. The sky still stretched a deep cobalt above, only turning orange and pink low to the east. It was early, not quite dawn yet. My body felt numb, sluggish, but my head was startlingly clear. I never sleep much, and this definitely counted as a restful night for me.

I didn’t move, just lay there, basked into the quietude of that brief hour when the night fades away but the day is yet to come. You were asleep, still except for the slow and deep rise of your chest. Your arm was pleasantly heavy across my waist. We hadn’t moved during the night, there was hardly room to in the joint sleeping bags.

I watched you. I could see your face in more details than ever before. The small mole on the left side of your mouth. The stunning length of your eyelashes casting shadows over your cheekbones. The sharply drawn bow of your upper lip. The stubble on your cheek blurring the edge of your beard. I was too engrossed in these small discoveries to notice when you opened your eyes and caught me studying you.

Your voice was rough with sleep, but you were smiling when you spoke.

‘Don’t just stare, love…’

There was only one response I could give to that. Making out with you half-awake felt different from the previous times. Leisurely, almost sedate, with none of your usual assertiveness. You were pliant under my hands, my lips. I think you drifted back to sleep a couple of times, but not enough to stop you from protesting if I stilled for too long. I’d never seen you like that, so unguarded and vulnerable. And yes, darling, I thought you were cute again.

I don’t know how long it took for you to properly wake up, but I couldn’t miss it when you did. Your hands became firmer, bolder. You started to take back control of our still languid kisses. I was happy to let you for a while, but you had more in mind. You opened the sleeping bag to give us room, but kept the blankets over us. It was still chilly. You were doing unspeakable things to my neck, when you paused and whispered right into my ear.

‘I want to suck you off.’

Have I ever told you that you have a way with words? And no, I’m not being sarcastic. My brain shut down at that. I can’t remember the last time it’d happened so completely. I blinked in answer; you’d definitely caught me off guard.

You raised your head to look at me, always careful, always checking.

‘Unless you don’t want me to…’ you began. I managed a smirk and an inviting gesture. You got the message.

I don’t know what I can tell you about what followed. Surely you know how skilful you are. It was good. Better than I had imagined. And trust me, I'd imagined a lot. Was I ever glad that you grew your hair out for me, just being able to thread my fingers through it, to let my hand rest there so I could feel you in so many different ways. Silk and heat. Just you. All you. So strong and generous and mine. That’s all I can remember. Well, that and the rush of pleasure you made me feel, over and over again, until I couldn’t stay still anymore and you had to hold me down, your hands just shy of bruising on my hips as I capitulated.

I opened my eyes and you’d barely moved, only sat back on your heels watching me. You looked hungry. It made me shiver. Your hand was palming your cock, slow but purposeful.

‘Come here,’ I said, my turn to beckon you.

You shifted your weight but didn’t move, your eyes boring into mine.

‘You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, love. I don’t want you to think you have to return the favour or anything. Not if you’re not ready. I enjoyed what we did, you don’t owe me anything.’

‘Gladio,’ I had to laugh. ‘Do you really think I ever do anything I don’t want to?’

You went quiet. Serious.

‘Yeah,’ you finally said. ‘I think you do. Way too often.’ I couldn’t deny it, not when you’d taken that tone, but it wasn’t what I’d meant.

‘In my own time?’

‘Probably not.’

‘I promise to be very selfish. Come here,’ I asked again.

This time you obeyed.

‘Lie down.’

‘Bossy much?’

‘Indeed.’

That made you smile. I stretched on my side near you, head on my hand, drawing the outline of your chest with my fingertips. I’d promised and I had to figure out what I really wanted. I certainly wanted to put my mouth on you. I’d hardly have your mastery but I know very well that nothing gets better without practice. Yet, there was something else, something there in the back of my mind. I couldn’t get it out of my head, that small glimpse of your face lost in pleasure I’d caught the night before. That’s what I wanted more than anything else at that moment.

‘I want to watch you come,’ I said.

You scrunched your eyes shut, your jaw tightened, and a quiet ‘fuck’ fell from your lips.

‘That’s going to happen real fast if you keep this up,’ you said after taking a deep controlled breath.

‘Fine. I can tease.’

I put my hand on you, light, playful, watched you shudder. You’re beautiful when you lose control, darling. So beautiful. I close my eyes and all I see is you. Back bowed, hands fisting the covers, teeth sinking deep in your bottom lip. And the sounds… those wonderful strangled moans you make. If you hadn’t taken care of me so thoroughly only a moment before, I could have come just from watching you. And I got it - after making good on my promise to tease you not quite mercilessly… I got to see that perfect, abandoned look on your face when I finally pushed you over the edge.

You have no idea how much I long to see it again… or maybe you do. I hope you do.

We went back to sleep after that, spent and happy.

Maybe I went on too long. I know you only asked about that first time, but I think back and this night feels whole in my memories and I didn’t want to break it apart. It was perfect in its entirety.

But we were lucky enough to have another night to spend there, lost together in the deep woods. Want to tell me how you remember that one, darling?

I wish you were here. I wish I could touch you again. I just… I know this is unhelpful so I’ll cut it short. Just get some privacy and read this letter again, think of me. It’s the best we can get for now. I’ll do the same.

And I’ll see you later on tonight for our sparring session. I trust you to behave, as difficult as it might be. I love you.

Blaze

 


	201. Chapter 201

> Subject: **Read it again in private? Ten times over already**
> 
> Wed, Nov 18 at 1:37 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

My Ignis, my Blaze, fire of my heart—you write so beautifully. I've been luxuriating in your words all day.

Let's see, where did you leave us? Saturday morning, sleeping after our sunrise rites. When I woke again the sun was shining almost directly overhead. I propped myself up on my elbows and watched you.

I never realized until that morning how much of the character of your face is in your eyes—always alert, always searching. Closed, they give your features an entirely different expression. Softer, younger, heart-achingly lovely. I could have stayed like that for hours, caught in the spell of your beauty. But I remembered I'd promised to cook for you, so I pulled on a pair of old workout pants and left a note and made my way down to the lake. The rock was smooth and cool under my feet. The sun was like melted butter on my bare shoulders. And the fish were biting. It didn't take me long to land the first one.

I didn't hear you behind me, but I smelled the coffee. You had a cup in each hand. You sat down next to me. "You're happiest when you're running around half-naked, aren't you?"

I turned my head into your kiss, and after we finally broke apart I said, "Yes." The coffee was delicious, hot, just a splash of cream. "How did you know I take cream?"

"I guessed. And as you'd packed some in the cooler, it wasn't difficult. Teach me to fish?"

"Of course." I showed you how to handle the rod, how to turn it toward the fish, and you caught on quickly. We soon had a second catch, and together we cleaned them and hung them in the shade of a big tree next to the campsite. You're wickedly fast with a blade, Ignis. It's hot. Did I tell you that then? I think I meant to but forgot. There was always an undercurrent in my mind that couldn't stop marveling that you were truly there next to me, that I could reach out and touch you at any time and you would be real, warm, not a figment of my imagination.

Anyway, my stomach was growling (again; if you're going to hang out with me I'm afraid you'll have to get used to that, I'm pretty much always hungry) and we remembered that we'd skipped bacon and eggs in favor of our morning makeout session. (A trade that I would happily make a hundred times more.) But the fish was ready to go and the mollusks I'd bought the day before were in the cooler on ice, so I said I'd make paella.

I was a little nervous, to be honest. I know what a good cook you are, and, well, I'm not. I can A) boil water, B) make Altissian toast, courtesy of your very early assistance, and C) cook paella. But people think it's complicated and it's not at all. Some oil, some sliced chorizo, handfuls of fish and shrimp, peppers and onions, garlic and spices, all over a roaring fire, and then lots of rice and broth and wine with mollusks tucked in among everything else. Simple. And you didn't seem to mind watching. You leaned your head against my shoulder as I stirred and, stars be my judge, I could have died happy right there. Just the weight of your head on my shoulder. I love you, Ignis, have I said that yet? I love you. My Blaze. My Ignis. Fire of my heart.

By the time we finished eating it was after two o'clock, and the breeze off the lake had gone from balmy to brisk. Clouds were gathering at the mountain peaks, a sharp contrast from yesterday’s perfectly clear skies. "You did say you brought a tent, Gladio? This might be a good time to pitch it."

What I said back to that earned me a smack on the head. I did warn you about my abysmal sense of humor. But I'm afraid that's what you get when you date a guy who's spent his whole life hanging out with a bunch of soldiers and mercenaries.

We were halfway through getting it set up when the rain started to fall, but at least we were able to throw all the blankets and bedding inside before they got wet. You and I got drenched, though, and as I hammered the last spike into a crack in the rock you stood over me laughing. "We should have taken off our clothes and thrown them inside too."

"Yeah, that was a failure of strategy, Ignis." I stood up and wiped my hands on my pants, which didn't do much since both were soaking wet. "Noct calls you Iggy, doesn't he? Can I call you that? Do I have too many names for you already?"

You came up close to me and put your arms around my waist. "You underestimate me to your peril, darling. It was a strategic success. Now they're wet, you'll just have to take them off." And you tipped your head up and smirked at me as you untied the drawstrings. "Here's a deal. I'll let you call me Iggy if you can beat me down to the lake."

You dropped the strings and ran, leaving me tangled in my own clothing. "Sneaky bastard!" I yelled, and kicked them aside to chase after. You won, of course, with that extremely underhanded head start. But I called you Iggy anyway once I pinned you against the rock wall, chest-deep in water that shimmered with raindrops hitting the surface. I called you Iggy while I licked your ear and you shivered and melted in my arms. And when you retaliated by diving under the water to take me in your mouth, I fell back against the rock and said, "Fuck, Iggy," although you couldn't hear me. And there was only so long you could hold your breath. But the look on my face when you came back up must have been worth it, because you laughed and laughed.

We left our wet clothes outside the tent and shoved our way inside, arguing over who was getting more water on everything, but it was too cold to play that game for long, and we dug into the nest of blankets and curled against each other, your lips warming mine and vice versa. The sound of rain on a tent is very different than rain on a window, isn't it? More intimate. More immediate, like being inside a huge drum. The light of the lantern threw crazy shadows everywhere, our own bodies doubled and tripled and tangled on the walls. And then you put your mouth very close to my ear and spoke my own words back to me.

“Tell me what you want.”

I thought for a moment, and even as I said it I knew it sounded like a line, but it was true. “I want to please you. I want to make you happy.”

You shoved my shoulder in mock annoyance. “Stop being so ridiculously gallant. It's your turn to be selfish. Tell me what you like.”

“But that _is_ what I like,” I said cheerfully. You regarded me quietly, your hand wrapped lightly around my cock.

“Maybe so, but I’ll still make you tell me all those secret desires of yours. But not now. For now, darling, would you let me fuck you?”

I groaned, the brush of your fingers maddening. “As if you have to ask.”

“I want you that way too, you know. But not now. Once we have a proper bed, or on our burgundy couch. I’m not quite ready for that,” you said, and I loved your honesty, how I knew you would never tell me what you thought I wanted to hear. “It’s a rather intimidating if alluring prospect. I’d rather try it in a less wild setting.” You gave a squeeze; I fought for composure.

“But although we've talked about it in our fantasies—I have to know first—is that really something you—do you like—“

“Do I like taking it up the ass?” I said, teasingly, to see if I could make you blush; but you just pushed your glasses up with one long finger and said, “I would have put it less crudely, but yes, that's what I was getting at.”

“I do. Unsurprisingly, very few people ask.”

“It surprises me.” You brushed your bare hand across my cheek, so gently that my eyes closed and I sighed with involuntary pleasure. “You're beautiful, Gladio, and you’re so used to thinking of yourself as a brute that you don't even realize it, do you? I want to see what your beautiful face looks like when I'm inside you.”

Your words took me off guard. I'd intended to make you blush, but instead I felt my own face growing hot. You smiled, delicately, obviously enjoying my response, and my cock jumped in your hand. “Oh, you _do_ like that idea.”

“Yeah.” I was breathing hard already, trying to control myself, and I loved seeing this new side of you, so deliberate in your own desire and in mine. “Please.” You had me metaphorically and literally in the palm of your hand.

“I’ve never done this with someone else—I don’t want to hurt you. Would you get yourself ready for me? Like you did in the Red Mage story?”

“Gladly,” I breathed, and my cock twitched in disappointment as you removed your hand, but you were digging in your pack and brought out a bottle.

“I told you I packed all the essentials.”

I leaned back into the blankets. “Always prepared.” And then I worked myself open while you hovered, curious and interested. I was entranced by the evident pleasure you took in my body. You say I can't hide my emotions, and that's true, you're much better at it than I; but you have a plain honesty that is deeply refreshing, without coyness or pretense. You ran your fingers up my thighs as my breath came faster and faster, and then pushed my hand aside and replaced my fingers with yours, rocking into me, curling and teasing until I gasped with need. It was too delicious to endure. You, my love—my heart’s flame—

“Ignis. Ignis.” I wanted to watch but my head went back involuntarily, my body arching. “If you want to fuck me, do it _now.”_

I heard the condom wrapper torn open and then you pressed yourself against me. “Does it hurt?” you asked, hesitating; I shook my head.

“No. A little at first,” I amended. “In a good way. Don't worry, love, you won't break me. I've done this before.” I could tell you were being careful anyway, and the sweet, serious expression on your face as you moved deeper was too lovely for words. I reached up and touched your cheeks, your lips. I couldn't stop saying your name. You lost your hesitation, growing quickly confident, a flush of pleasure and exertion high on your cheekbones, driving into me with precise snaps of your hips, arms braced on either side of my shoulders, so I could turn my head and see the elegant lines of muscle in your biceps and forearms, tendons working as your palms pushed hard against the blankets for purchase. Each thrust stroked my nerves in a way I’ve never been touched before. Each thrust stoked the fire, building it higher and higher until I was only faintly aware of myself, completely centered on you burying yourself in me, closer and closer to tipping over the edge into conflagration.

Then you stopped. I heard myself moan in frustration, a sound I’d never heard from my throat before, wrenched from somewhere deep inside my chest. You lifted one hand from the blankets and put it on my cock. “Tell me how it feels. I want to make you feel good. I don’t want to be selfish.”

“Oh, love.” I reached up and pulled you against me, so you collapsed to your elbows, chest to chest. The shift in position pressed you deeper into my body, and the breath went out of me in a gasp. “This is so good. So good.” I rolled us over, so we lay facing side by side, and I hitched one leg up to give you better access. Your mouth opened in a soft, long sigh of pure enjoyment and I fought for control. You gorgeous creature. My love, my Blaze, my Ignis, mine. “Fuck me, Iggy, please, and don't stop.”

And the rain poured down. It hammered our little tent, it slapped the fabric in a raucous rhythm that matched the noises we were making, you and I, our voices and our flesh, a storm of longing and pleasure and decadent satisfaction.

How can I put it into words, how much that night meant to me? I can't. I hope this comes close. And I hope you understand now, when we sparred tonight and I backed away—I couldn't trust myself. It was too much to bear. I love you so much it hurts, Ignis. And I think I did end up playing with fire after all.

Consumed,

Your Behemoth

P.S. Got my eval results yesterday. No mention of my strength and breadth?

 


	202. Chapter 202

> Subject: **What are we going to do…**
> 
> Wed, Nov 18 at 11:21 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I woke up early this morning, hoping to find your email waiting for me (I went to bed at a remarkably reasonable time yesterday, mostly because I’d spent most of the previous night writing) and I wasn’t disappointed. I had a lovely time drinking my first coffee while reading it, and then I had a long, warm, very relaxing shower. It wasn’t nearly as good as being with you but it helped.

But work turned out to be rather rough today, I only got home an hour ago. I made tea, sat in my armchair with a book, but I couldn’t concentrate. I went to the window; the air was still, oppressive, cold. It’s the New Moon and from down in the financial district you can’t see the sky, just the electric lights reflecting upon the monstrous lid of the Wall in ugly, quavering blobs. The surface shimmers like it’s made of oil; and when the lights tremble, it feels like something is there, barely alive, drowning just out of sight under the surface.

I know the Wall is protecting us, but I hate how it looks during those nights. It feels like a trap rather than a shield, and I can’t help but think how after all, it might be exactly what it is. The Empire’s got us running scared, huddling together for warmth under a safeguard that is doomed to fail one day, and when it does, we’ll all have been gathered there, ripe, ready to be harvested.

I don’t have answers. I don’t know what else we should be doing. But I know with frightening certainty that we’re not doing enough.

I pulled the curtains so I wouldn’t see the absent night anymore, took off my suit and lay on my bed. I thumbed through my phone on instinct, looking for your letters, as I always do now when I want to distract myself.

I read that last letter of yours again. I could see it all in front of my eyes as it happened. So perfect, it feels unreal. It was still beautiful. Yet, when I was done, I wanted to cry.

Because you were not here. Because I didn’t know when you would be here with me again. I’ve been racking my brains for days now to try and find us a way forward and I’ve come up blank.

Of course, I have dozens of valid excuses for you to come over for one evening, but it’s not enough. It’d only make things worse. We’ll never be happy with one evening, and it’s a dangerous slope we’ll lose control on if we’re not careful.

I’ve been regretting it, you know, telling you I wanted to wait. I keep on thinking how I still don’t know what it’d feel like to have you there, deep inside of me, and by moments, I feel like I’ve missed my chance. That we were given a gift - a precious and beautiful shard of time - and I’ve squandered it by assuming we’d have more.

Sometimes, I feel torn and reckless and I want to stop caring. I want to tell the world about us, I want to take a gamble. And then I think about what could happen if it went wrong… If anyone with a bit of influence should find it ‘distasteful.’ It would seem like such a small thing. They wouldn't even try to break us up. ‘Get him reassigned,’ they’d say, ‘for convenances-sake. Workplace relationships are unseemly. We can’t have that in the Prince’s House.’ No one will think it a big deal, or argue against it, not if it’s to maintain _propriety._ ‘You’re still a secretary for the Council,’ they’ll say, ‘it’s not like it’s really affected your career.’ They’ll laugh and whisper. ‘Of course, you can’t say it, but I bet you’re glad to be rid of the brat, aren’t you?’

And I think of Noct alone in front of his new tutor, someone who will be a perfect balance of pride and obsequiousness and I want to hit something. It’s not like me, I never think things like that. But I do.

And as much as I love you, it’s not worth it. I can’t do this. I couldn’t live with myself if they took me away from him. No one bothers looking under that moody and difficult carapace of his. No one will be able to tell whether he’s being lazy or whether he’s truly having a bad day and needs to be looked after. He needs someone who understands him better than he understands himself. He's still so young, so prone to lashing out when he's in pain. He needs me. I can’t risk it. I just can’t…

And it’s killing me. I close my eyes and I see you pull away from me during our sparring practice. I understand why. I know you made the right call. I know you did it for me. I love you even more for it. And it still hurts like hell.

I nearly called you a little while ago, but I don’t think I would have made much sense. I just wanted to hear your voice, low and loving, the voice you can never use at work.

I miss you so much. I want to feel your arms around me again, bury my face in your shoulder and stop thinking for a while. That’s all I want. But it’d be easier to walk barefoot to Ravatogh to wake Eos up.

I should get some sleep. Thinking hurts and it hasn’t helped at all.

I love you,

Blaze

 


	203. Chapter 203

> Subject: **We’re going to go on loving each other. It’s all I know how to do.**
> 
> Thu, Nov 19 at 4:56 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Call me next time.

Seriously. There's no reason we can't talk on the phone. No one’s going to notice if our numbers show up in each other’s tracking logs a few more times than usual. You would have woken me but it would have been worth it. I'm furious at myself for missing your email. It was a long day and I fell into bed before eleven.

Maybe that's a good thing. It probably spared you from some ridiculously dramatic gesture on my part, like trying to climb the drainpipe to your apartment or knocking on the door with, oh, chiffon cake or something, I don't know, I'm an idiot. But the thought of you lying there in bed trying not to cry rips my heart in half.

I _hate_ that I can't be there with you.

I can’t stand knowing that it’s me who’s causing you this pain.

And I feel so fucking helpless because you’re absolutely right, as you always are, it’s an awful, impossible situation, and there’s nothing I can do.

I want to send flowers, but that would just give those people in the admin office something else to gossip about. How's this. Remember those flowers I sent months ago, pressed into the book of poetry? Someday I'm going to take you there, to that haven, and we'll gather them together. I don't know when—but someday. That's a promise.

As for that other wish of yours—I promise you'll have it too. I know you're thinking now, how can I make a promise like that? After you've racked your mind looking for an answer and come up empty? I can't tell you how but I know it's possible, damn the Wall, damn our stubborn destinies, I am going to give you your desire and I’ll rearrange the stars if I have to. I'm not being poetic.

I know you weren't asking me to fix this. I know what you need now is my shoulder to lean on and my arms around you and soft warm words of reassurance. Forgive me. I've struggled over this letter all afternoon.

I love you.

Gladio

 


	204. Chapter 204

> Subject: **I apologize if it is inappropriate to use this address for personal matters, but it seemed the best way to contact you.**
> 
> Thu, Nov 19 at 7:32 PM
> 
> From: kupokupo@eosmail.com
> 
> To: Ignis.Scientia@HRH.gov.lux

 

Dear Mr. Scientia,

While we are not formally acquainted, you know of me as Gladiolus Amicitia's sister. I once sent you a drawing, although it was addressed to Blaze. You may ask how I have perceived your true identity. I recently attended the Day of the Scourged masquerade ball, and I confess I was very much taken by the lovely red gloves you were wearing with your costume. Imagine my surprise when I went into my brother's desk this weekend and found one of your gloves!

I want to make it very clear that I despise snooping and doing so was not at all my intention. I was looking for my second-favorite eraser, which is shaped like a cactuar, and which we had taken recently with us on an artistic excursion. I knew he was camping with you, but I had not the slightest inkling that you were his mysterious correspondent. In fact, he hasn't spoken of Blaze in some time. He spent a week moping around the house, and I deduced that you had broken up. I'm not stupid, Mr. Scientia, and my brother is entirely incapable of hiding his emotions.

I also despise snitches and would have kept Saturday’s discovery to myself, but tonight he came home clearly distraught and has been stomping around the house all night, slamming cupboards and being quite cross with me. I have forgiven him already, as it is not his usual behavior, and I will insist that he take me to the movies to make up for his rudeness. However, I feel certain that you are the cause, and I do not tolerate unkindness to my brother. I must be direct. If I find that you have hurt him, my wrath shall know no bounds. Act accordingly.

Sincerely,

Iris Amicitia

P.S. I love the stuffed moogles soooooo much!!!!! Thank you <3

 


	205. Chapter 205

> Subject: **I’ll never stop loving you. Remember that.**
> 
> Fri, Nov 20 at 03:41 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I’ve been trying to write this letter for hours. It hurts worse than when I thought my beautiful story with Behemoth had been nothing but lies. It hurts more than when you thought I hated you. It hurts more than I can stand.

You told me to call you whenever I wanted… I read this and smiled, because of course you would say this. And no, I don’t believe anyone on the admin side of things would notice our calls. There are limits even to my paranoiac tendencies. But I know how easily we would transform it into a habit, how quickly we would call each other every night, how much I would crave to hear you say ‘I love you’ rather than read it on a computer screen. And I also know how straightforward and honest you are. It wouldn’t be long before your friends, your family, starts noticing and asking questions. As much as you’d try to deflect or lie to start with, it would only be a matter of time before we drew too much attention to ourselves. And that’s without even mentioning how much I hate the idea of you having to hide the truth from people you love… how much you would hate having to do it.

I was going to say all this to you. Tell you that as alluring as your offer was, we had to be careful. Reasonable.

But it turns out we haven’t been. It turns out it’s already too late.

I had an email from your sister when I got home tonight. Sent to my work address no less. Let that sink… There’s an unencrypted email about our relationship on my work account. And yes, this one is very much government property if they decide they want a look.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not mad at her. She’s a child; an unfortunately bright child, but a child nonetheless. None of this is her fault. And her threats would have been rather endearing if they hadn’t chilled my blood as it tried to run sluggishly in my veins. She really loves you.

And please don’t tell me it’s fine, that she won’t say anything. We can’t hold a child to that kind of secrecy. It’s reckless, unfair and a very poor role model all at once.

What I know is that if she noticed, if she found out, others will too.

We’ve fucked up. It was too wonderful, too perfect not to fall into the trap of temptation. I should have seen it coming, but being with you felt too good and was too distracting. I didn’t pay attention. We might still have a chance to recover from this, however.

She knows you were upset last night, she believes - correctly - that it was my fault. Tell her, she’s right. Tell her it didn’t work out. Tell her we’re over. It won’t even be a lie.

I’m sorry. I wish I could kneel at your feet and beg for your forgiveness. You say you’re causing me pain, but that’s hardly the truth. You’ve only done what I asked every step of the way, you’ve given me so much, you’ve never pushed back or argued. It’s my fault. All of it is my fault. I’m the one who’s been refusing to take this any further, I’m the one who’s been putting conditions and limitations on our happiness. I’m the one who’s been telling you that you can’t be who matters most. And I dare say I love you, I dare call you ‘dearest’… Wretched creature that I am. How can you still have affection for me after all I’ve put us through?

I wish I could be deserving of your love and devotion. I wish I would know a way to be worthy of you.

Remember what you said all those letters ago?

_‘But even if I can never touch you in the flesh—even if you must turn your eyes away when we pass in the halls—even if we must protect Noct side by side without ever betraying what we once meant to each other—let me at least have your words. Even if it's only one letter a year. Because, as lonely and lost as this must make me sound, nothing in my life has ever given me such joy as reading your letters._

_‘It may be too much to ask. I respect your judgment and your decision.’_

I was wrong, my poor dear love… That decision I made was impetuous and foolhardy, pushed by those feelings you lighted up in me. Don’t think I am blaming you. Perish the thought. This is all down to my own shortcomings and poor judgement. I thought it was worth a try. And Shiva have mercy on my soul, I still think it was, because those few days away together with you were the happiest moments of my life. And I wouldn’t have given them up for the world.

But we tried and we failed. This can’t work and we have to put a halt to it before it’s too late, before the damage is irreparable. We have to stop trying to meet, and talk, and find excuses to spend time together. We have to keep our distance.

We can still write if you so wish, but only if this is what your heart truly desires. I will not be selfish and ask it of you when I’m taking everything else away. You’re such an amazing man, a most perfect gift from the world anyone would be lucky to receive; it is not right for me to keep you bound. I will not think harshly of you if you decide to step away now.

Go back to your friends, hang out, live, see what comes your way and let yourself be swept away. Don’t refuse what fate offers you on my account. More than anything else, I want you to be happy. Even if I can only see it from afar, even if that happiness has nothing to do with me. If you can be happy, then I’ll make peace with it all. It’s a good trade-off, one I’ll thank the gods for.

And if you should find yourself wanting, when things change, in a few years - when Noct is older, I will still be there, still in love with you. Always. And maybe… maybe we’ll get a second chance.

There’s nothing else left to say and I’m running out of strength.

If this is farewell, don’t answer me. Don’t put yourself through that pain. I’ll understand.

With all my love and deepest regrets,

Your Blaze

 


	206. Chapter 206

 

 

20 November

Less than 3 months to 19 years old and I find myself writing a diary like I did as a child. Once more to cope with loneliness and feelings no one else could understand. And here I thought I’d come so far. Life has a rather cruel way of reminding you of your place. Well, mine does anyway. And I can’t help but wonder which Astral I’ve offended to deserve such a merciless fate.

These past few months able to share thoughts and worries and laughter were blissful. And yet, here I am not even daring to write his name down. I feel like such a coward for it. And yet, what else am I supposed to do?

[Doodle of a behemoth with the word ‘Dearest’ next to it]

‘Your duty will always be bigger than yourself.’

I was proud of this for so long. I didn’t understand what it meant, what it implied of pain and sacrifice. But it’s too late.

I’m trapped in a life that will never be my own. By my own choice. Such a tragic irony I can’t even resent.

I sat at the computer, typed it all again. Aimlessly. Just to feel the pain again. Such an alive, raw pain that tells me the feelings are still there, so close, so precious. So doomed.

‘Behemoth’

‘Dearest’

‘Darling’

‘I love you’

[Sketch of a waterfall in a landscape with the words ‘simple impossible wishes’ scribbled near it]

I want to hear the water again… and watch the stars.

I stare at the words, waiting. Maybe one day they won’t mean anything anymore. The idea should be a relief but it feels like a burning iron in my throat instead.

So much unfairness I’d curse the gods if it didn’t choke me. Our future is dark and I don’t even mind anymore. Might as well use that life of mine since I’ve given it away already.

(The ink on the pages is blurred in a few places by wet circular spots)

 


	207. Chapter 207

> Subject: **Been a while, what’s up?**
> 
> Sat, Nov 21 at 7:23 AM
> 
> From: tackleandbait@eosmail.com
> 
> To: kupokupo@eosmail.com

 

Hey Iris, are you busy tomorrow for lunch? Want to come over and play video games? Iggy has a Council meeting or something so Prompto and I are gonna order pizza and bust out Rebel Racer 5. I got an extra controller so we can all race each other at the same time.

 


	208. Chapter 208

> Subject: **Yes, please :(**
> 
> Sat, Nov 21 at 8:07 AM
> 
> From: kupokupo@eosmail.com
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com

 

I'll come over around eleven before Gladdy wakes up. He's furious with me, Noct. It’s not like him. Usually he just loses his temper and we shout at each other and stomp our feet and slam doors and then he apologizes a half hour later. This time… his face was so cold. And I tried to explain but he only said I’d done enough already. Then he went and shut himself up in his room. I cried all night and he never came and said he was sorry. I think he hates me now.

I really messed up. I was only trying to help!!! I can't tell you why, it's a secret, but I feel so awful. Thank you. You guys always cheer me up <3

 


	209. Chapter 209

> Subject: **Got a working plan.**
> 
> Sat, Nov 21 at 11:45 AM
> 
> From: tackleandbait@eosmail.com
> 
> To: deadoralive@eosmail.com

 

Right, so Iris said yes, she’s coming tomorrow (good plan asking her by the way, you’re sharper than you look! :P). She definitely knows something. Apparently, Gladio is mad at her because of something she did, but it’s a secret and she doesn’t want to tell me what exactly. The way Gladio’s been acting though, it has to have something to do with Iggy. It’s too much of a coincidence. We’ll have to get it out of her.

Iggy’s been here all morning trying to teach me some history lesson he believes I should know in more depth than what is taught in our school curriculum. But he’s really not himself. I mean, he is and he isn’t, you know? He’s been going through the lesson, answering my questions, even rolled his eyes when I tried to annoy him on purpose. He does all that but it’s like he’s an automaton, a sophisticated MT that’s been taught tutoring or something. He’s not really there; his eyes are so empty, it’s creepy. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week.

I’ve tried asking what’s wrong again but he brushed me off. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. Please concentrate.’ Straight-faced and all. He can be so infuriating when he wants to!

Then I had the shrewdest of ideas. Like I swear Iggy would be proud of me if I could tell him, but obviously he can’t know. Anyway, I thought since he’s so good at the whole strategy thing, why not make use of it. So I asked him to brief me on interrogation techniques, thinking it might help us get info out of Iris. He looked like he was going to laugh at first, he got that twitch in the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t. He tried to brush me off again. ‘Interrogation techniques don’t work on someone who’s trained to recognise them,’ he said. He obviously thought I was still trying to get the truth out of him. So I made some BS about the theatre club at school and how we were writing a play based on the legend of Queen Beza’s lost twin and that it was research for a scene. Don’t look blank if he talks to you about it!

He finally relented at that. He talked a lot and it was pretty interesting, so I thought you should know about it so we’re on the same page for tomorrow. Basically, he said not to let them know what you’re after at the beginning, but instead to concentrate on building rapport with them, to try to make them talk about their problems, and from that to narrow down leverage points (who they care about, what’s important to them, etc). And then you need to present yourself as their salvation basically, like you can help - not only that but you’re the only one who can help them… I thought that part was quite creepy because it’s all about trying to make the situation look worse so they feel despair and think themselves doomed with no way out until you offer them one and then they trust you because they’ve come to think you’re their only option. Obviously, he was talking about prisoner of wars or spies, that kind of interrogation, so we really shouldn’t take it that far, but Iris likes us and she trusts us already, so I don’t think we have to anyway. If we get her to talk about why she’s sad and then say we want to help that should be enough. Hopefully. Gladio will kill us if we make her cry, and I’d feel really bad too.

But I think the overall approach should work… We don’t ask her what happened but let her relax with some gaming, then nudge her to talk about how bad things have been for her but still without asking why, and after that we tell her we want to help and insist that we’re the only ones who are really going to be both interested and on her side, and finally we start fishing for details. I’m sure she dying to tell someone, might as well be us. We’re really trying to help after all!

Call me later. We can go over the details again.

N.

 


	210. Chapter 210

> Subject: **This isn’t farewell**
> 
> Sat, Nov 21 at 1:06 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Blaze, I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I should have hidden that glove better. I shouldn’t have told Iris about you in the first place. This isn’t your fault!

Your pain crackles through your letter and each word is like a brand that sears and burns.

_Tell her we’re over. It won’t even be a lie._

 

***

 

Shit. I fell asleep.

I meant to send this email sooner, but the clock kept crawling towards three (why are our most difficult, most painful emails written then? Three is a deadly hour of the morning) and I woke to the sun slapping me in the face and my phone fallen onto the blankets.

I had it out with Iris last night. I told her how disappointed I was that she'd stooped to pry into our private business. I told her that despite her good intentions, she hadn't behaved with the honor of an Amicitia. Her little face crumpled, Blaze, I felt fucking terrible. But I just watched her run to her room. I wasn’t angry, just—numb. As numb as I've been since I read your letter. Reading it again, this morning, the blow doesn’t land quite so hard as it did yesterday. There’s a glimmer of hope.

When I said I'd be satisfied with letters alone, if that were all that the fates would allow us, it wasn't a line. I meant that, sincerely and without ulterior motive. As much as I savored our time together in Dawnigh, it's only the smallest portion of my feelings for you. We fell in love when you were only a soundless voice on a digital screen, remember? But please, Ignis, if you're offering me the chance to keep writing to you out of kindness—please, don't go on with it for that reason alone. You must know that as deeply as I cherish your letters, I cherish you more. If breaking it off now, cleanly, would give you a better chance at happiness, then I want you to take it.

(And yet I don't think I can let you go that easily. Not because I'm being selfish—gods, no, I swear it—but because I can't stand the idea of you alone again at three in the morning, breaking your heart over this all by yourself with no one to talk to.)

Why did it take me so long to finish writing this? Because I'm torn between my instincts, because logic tells me I should set you free of this terrible tangle as you asked me to before the masquerade ball. Honor tells me I should put my feelings aside and let you go. And yet I can't, I can't, I can't.

But what I'm going to say next might tip the scales against me. Noct is on to us. Did you tell him anything? He cornered me after practice yesterday and demanded an explanation for why you and I are behaving so oddly. I'm sorry, love, I was trying to act natural but you can imagine it wasn't easy after your email. I spent half the day sneaking off to the locker room to splash water on my face, trying to force my features into some semblance of composure. I told him it was a matter of honor and that I simply couldn't say more.

I'm sitting at the café where I wrote you that email so many weeks ago, watching people walking by, still wrapped in their scarves, still curled myself over a cup of coffee wreathed with steam, still thinking of you. Forgive me. If your intention was to gracefully sever our connection, then I've let you down. But I can't help but hear in your letter the plea to somehow keep us still together, even if it's only through words on a screen. And if I'm reading you correctly, if that is in fact what you wish, so do I. Truly. I can wait for you. It won't even be a hardship. I love you and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you close to my heart.

Please don't call yourself wretched, my sweetest love, don't say those terrible things about yourself—remember when I told you that back in the beginning? And all the joy we've had since then, despite the dark moments? If you'll let me, I'll be here for you, even if only in our letters. And we'll get through this together.

Your Behemoth. Until the end of time.

 


	211. Chapter 211

> Subject: **You’re always so much kinder than I deserve.**
> 
> Sat, Nov 21 at 9:33 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

My heart stopped when I saw that email from you. Despite its reassuring title, I had that crawling, icy feeling along my back, nothing but abject fear. For all that I tried to be reasonable, to let you slip away through my fingers, to give you back that freedom you let me hold for a short while, the thought of you walking out of my life - maybe forever - was unbearable.

Please don’t beat yourself up about the glove. Hindsight might seem wonderful, but it only helps at making us feel guilt and remorse, neither of which are helpful. Now that this has happened I can truly see how delusional I was to believe we could keep this a secret. I was lying to myself thinking we could be discreet enough to hide it when we persistently gravitate around the same people, within the confines of the same world.

I read your letter and I sat on the edge of the mattress, staring at my bedroom wall, waiting for the tears to stop falling. It took a long while. All I could do was try to keep my breathing calm so I wouldn’t sob like a child. I thought we were done, I thought you would move on. I tried to console myself thinking you’d be happier, that I’d still have those letters and beautiful memories, that just for that it’d have all been worth it. And yet, I’ve never felt relief like I did when I read your words, telling me you’d still want to write to me, telling me that you’d even wait. And I can’t help but feel unworthy of such devotion. I love you more than I can say and yet it will never feel like I deserve you, your kindness, love and selflessness. I’m so sorry, Gladio, darling, I am so sorry to have put you through all this.

And of course, if you’re willing, I want us to keep writing. I want to keep that connection between us alive. We can go back to the ethereal world of Behemoth and Blaze for a while, richer for that brief incursion we made into reality.

If it becomes hurtful, however, please don’t persist for my sake. I have already hurt you more than I can forgive myself for. I never want to do it again. So if writing to me becomes a burden, if it ever comes to interfere with your life and new romantic avenues you want to pursue, tell me. I will let you go, I promise. I won’t think harshly of you at all. I will always be grateful for anything of yours you’ve let me keep, for however long. Anything at all. You’ve already given me more than I could ever repay.

But severing ties to give me a chance at happiness, you say? There is no such thing without you, love. You’re the only one who’s ever made me happy. I’m not being rhetorical. Of course, I’ve been proud of my achievements before, I’ve been pleased about Noct’s progress, I’ve been delighted when finishing a well crafted piece of work. Satisfaction, yes, I knew. I know. And I always thought it was a worthy enough goal. But happiness? True, wholesome, unadulterated happiness? I’ve only experienced this with you. I didn’t even know such a pure, contented feeling existed before you gave it to me. You are what happiness is. None of it makes any sense without you.

Would you do me a favour? Talk to Iris, tell her you forgive her. She has surely learnt her lesson by now, a rather cruel lesson that it’s not always about having your heart in the right place. Life is complicated like that. But both of you need each other, and you shouldn’t be without her love and support. Especially now.

And no, I did not say anything to Noct, but I suspect my poker face was hardly better than yours. The past few days have been hard on both of us. Thank you for handling it so sensitively. If we can buy ourselves some time, get used to that hurt, let it simmer deep in our souls rather than have it bubble raw and scorching on the surface, we’ll be able to hide it better. Hopefully, he’ll soon forget about it.

Which café was it you went to? I want to go there, sit for a while like you did. I’ll write you a letter too, imagining that I can feel you near me beyond the illusion of time.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart, filled with you as always.

I love you,

Blaze

 


	212. Chapter 212

> Subject: **You owe me a rematch, that was totally a cheat move you pulled with the oil slick and YOU KNOW IT**
> 
> Sun, Nov 22 at 7:05 PM
> 
> From: deadoralive@eosmail.com
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com

 

Holy shit. Poor Iris. When you gave her that sparkly moogle cupcake and she burst into tears… brutal interrogation tactics, man. But you better hope she doesn't tell Gladio or you're gonna be so dead.

Sorry I had to take off so soon after she left, it was getting late and old Mrs. Fabool next door can't get the washing in by herself. I think Iris was telling us the truth but I'm not sure I understand??? Why did Gladio tell her it was a big secret? Like, Iggy giving him a glove is definitely super dorky and I would be embarrassed too. But why do they have to break up just because she found out?

Also WTF they were dating this whole time and NO ONE TOLD US?!

 


	213. Chapter 213

> Subject: **In your dreams! Beat you fair and square, it’s called ‘using the environment to your advantage’ and it’s the smart thing to do.**
> 
> Sun, Nov 22 at 9:20 PM
> 
> From: tackleandbait@eosmail.com
> 
> To: deadoralive@eosmail.com

 

Iris’s texted me she made it home okay and Gladio hasn’t rung or broken down my door yet, so I think we’re good.

And I don’t think it’s just us. They haven’t told anyone. I don’t think they wanted anyone to know. The problem isn’t so much Iris knowing, it’s anyone knowing. They were keeping it under wrap. I wonder how long it’s been going on for. I mean, we only started to think they were acting weird at the ball, but the way they were cosying up then, it wasn’t a new new thing.

Anyway, as to why they didn’t want anyone to know, I’d like to believe they were just worried we would mock them mercilessly (and we totally would have because come on, can you imagine Ignis Scientia blushing? Like seriously? If we ever manage that, my brain’s going to explode!), but I think it’s more complicated than that.

I think they’re worried there might be consequences if they’re found out. You remember that music teacher I had a couple of years ago? Miss Nobuo? The pretty one that used to wrinkle her nose and look in physical pain whenever I sang even though she was the one who asked me to do it in the first place! And you were always laughing your ass off just because you can carry half a tune. Well, she started dating one of the lieutenants of my detachment of the City Guard and when people realised it went all pear-shaped. They were all throwing big words around like ‘divided loyalties,’ ‘affront to tradition,’ and ‘lack of propriety.’

I don’t remember the details but in the end they were told to choose who would keep their job and who would have to move on. She quit. I think she was already pregnant or something so that’s why she made that call, but anyway it was ugly. And that sort of thing happens all the time around here. It’s kind of ridiculous.

So I get it. If I was them, I wouldn’t want anyone to know because you can be sure that people would start meddling and then who knows what might happen.

It sucks for them though, if they really want to be together and that’s why they’re not. So much bullshit.

Although now that’s making me imagine them together, and EWWW… Yeah. No. I did NOT need that mental image.

I’m going to go bleach my brain and then I’ll have to sleep because school day tomorrow and as you well know the guards call Iggy if I still have the light on after 10pm. I’ve tried bribing them but it doesn’t work. They’re more scared of him than they are of me.

Talk tomorrow. Hope you didn’t give your neighbour a heart attack by draping yourself in the sheets and stumbling around like last time.

N.

 


	214. Chapter 214

> Subject: **That's not true. You deserve all of it, and a hell of a lot more too.**
> 
> Sun, Nov 22 at 10:43 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Love,

I'm going to tell you the hard part first, so brace yourself.

I went to the café again this afternoon, bringing my copy of _The Lost Savours of Eos._ I'm on the part where she's bribing the Niflheim border guards. (You were right, this book is awesome.) I think I was secretly hoping I'd see you, although how could I? I haven't told you which one it is yet. But I'm sure you've been there, it's the big coffee shop down in the fashion district with all the glass and chrome. They make the best paninis in Insomnia. I started writing an email to you. It was going to be light and cheerful and put a smile on your face—that was the plan.

After I got home I went for a run. I had to do something to work off the crawling nervous energy that's been keeping me on edge since Friday. I pushed myself harder than usual. Set a personal record. And while I was stretching I read your email again a few more times.

I decided you were right, I should make amends with Iris. As you say, guilt and remorse aren't helpful, and she doesn't deserve to suffer for my carelessness. It was getting close to dinnertime and too late to start anything from scratch, so I ordered her favorite pizza as a peace offering. She should have been thrilled, right? Nope. She came home with a tear-stained face and told me politely she'd already had pizza.

Huge fucking alarm bells. I asked her where she had pizza. "Oh, at Noct's." And why were you crying? "Because I told him about our fight." Her lip was already quivering. You didn't tell him— "But he's the _prince!"_ she wailed, burst into tears again, and ran to her room.

You're the strategist, Iggy, what's our play? Pretend we don't know and wait for him to say something? If he asks me point-blank I can't lie to him. I'm his Shield. I just can't.

But listen—don't apologize to me. We promised each other a long time ago that we'd stop doing that. No one is at fault here. Unless it's the crazy fucked-up politics we're forced to navigate every day just to live our damned lives. I won't let you blame yourself. We're going to get through this. Next time you feel like crying, remember how we held each other in the firelight. Remember how good it felt to have my arms around you. It's not the last time. I promise.

Your Behemoth, always

P.S. How about you write to me from the café tomorrow? Give yourself a break after all those endless hours in Council. It will require an inhuman amount of restraint for me not to run down there as soon as I get the email, just so I can see your face, but I've heard that kind of thing builds character.

 


	215. Chapter 215

> Subject: **I become so calm when the crisis finally hits. It’s eerie.**
> 
> Mon, Nov 23 at 12:06 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Are you okay? You must be feeling dreadful, worrying about Iris, about Noct, about us. I wish I could be by your side, I don’t know if it would be enough to ease your burden but I would feel better seeing you with my own eyes, just getting you to sit down and lean your head against me as I thread my fingers through your hair. Such small comforts so many take for granted. I wish I could give them all to you. But wishes mean little in the current circumstances.

Have you managed to get through to Iris? To talk to her? She’s gone through a whole rollercoaster of emotions those past few days. Tell her I’m not angry with her. Please. I want her to know. She’s too young to be dealing with all this. It’s important she understands that us not being able to be together had nothing to do with her; she just found out at the wrong time.

About Noct, it was only a question of time. I think I knew it. I barely got shaken by your letter, it was almost…a relief; like a predicted disaster finally happening and as bad as it is you're almost glad the wait is over. But Noctis has never been who I truly worried about. Him knowing is an increased risk we were better not taking but that we can manage if needed. Hopefully, as long as we only write to each other, as long as we keep our distance, he will soon forget the whole thing. Just stick to your answers. But if it comes to it, I won’t ask you to lie to him. I would never ask this of you. Just keep the truth simple, just tell him we tried and we couldn’t make it work, that he shouldn’t worry about it. If he insists, tell him to talk to me.

Don’t take this the wrong way, darling, but you can be quite blunt sometimes and I don’t want him to think any of this is his fault either. He has enough on his shoulders as it is. I wouldn’t forgive myself if we added to it.

As for not crying anymore… oh dearest, imagining our embrace, or your arms around me, would not be a particularly effective way of stopping the tears. I don’t want you to worry though. I’m managing. I only really slumped when I thought we wouldn’t even talk anymore, or when exhaustion gets the better of me.

And I believe you. I want to believe you when you say it won’t be the last time. But the future looks so bleak right now, I struggle to stay as steadfast as you are. My strong, beautiful, and resolute love. Yet, as painful as they can feel, those memories mean everything to me. There’s nothing - absolutely nothing - I would give them up for. Except, of course, being able to be with you, unrestrained, forever.

I’ll keep on reading your words… _‘It’s not the last time. I promise,’_ every time doubts eat at me. I can hear your voice… If I close my eyes sometimes I think I can feel your breath caressing my neck as you whisper them in my ear. We’re so far apart, and yet you’re more of a presence around me than you’ve ever been. Thank you. I don’t know how I'd go through this without you.

I’ll try to find the time to go to the café tomorrow. I’ll definitely write if I do.

Love you,

Blaze

 


	216. Chapter 216

> Subject: **Mostly worrying about you. Be kind to yourself, love**
> 
> Mon, Nov 23 at 12:17 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Astrals, that was stupid, I'm sorry. Of course thinking of the camping trip isn't going to make you feel better. I haven't been quite all here these past few days. A little dazed, I guess. But I'm holding up. I know you're still stuck in Council and you probably won't get this for hours but I didn't want to leave you waiting for a reply.

I actually meant to write back as soon as I read your email this morning, but it was a bit of a scramble getting out the door. Iris baked me some bizarre breakfast casserole to apologize and accidentally spilled half of it in the oven and the smoke alarm went off… anyway, I've just now had a moment to write. Don't worry. I'll play it cool with Noct.

This too shall pass,

Behemoth

P.S. Oh, and I did tell her you weren't angry and she said she would send you back one of the moogles if you wanted it to keep you company. I haven't cried at all this whole time—I dunno, still half in shock—but when she said that I had to turn away before she could see my eyes. A moogle doll would be more useful than I am right now. At least you could hold it. But sweet Blaze—if you happen to read this in your meeting—know that I'm thinking of you right now, and I love you, and nothing will ever change that.

 


	217. Chapter 217

> Subject: **I made it.**
> 
> Mon, Nov 23 at 4:44 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I managed to get away after six solid hours in the Council chambers. A newly appointed member kept on requesting that we train new Glaives and didn’t seem to be able to accept that there was little point growing their numbers when His Majesty can only sustain so many at one given time. Increasing the strength of the City Guard is a better use of our current resources. But I swear they all had the same exact conversation about seven times. His Majesty wasn’t present and they were rowdy like little kids when the teacher leaves the classroom for a moment. I’ll let you imagine how easy it is to write minutes when people interrupt each other every twenty seconds and do not respect their official speaking time. Sometimes I remember that those are the people supposed to be advising the Crown on all matters, that they’re the ones who have to shape our future, and I despair somewhat.

But anyway, enough about work… I got out and instead of going straight to Noct to tidy his flat and make dinner, I went to the café. Prompto’s apparently dragged Noct to some kind of yearbook club so I have a bit of extra time before he gets home.

I stared at the tables, trying to guess where you would have sat yesterday. The waiter tried to usher me inside but I told him I wanted to sit outside. There was a fair bit of wind and the temperature has dropped significantly today. He looked at me as if I was a lunatic, but then he shrugged and gave up.

‘Sit wherever you like, sir,’ he said with a pointedly wide and encompassing gesture at all the empty tables. ‘I’ll come back in a bit to take your order.’

When he was gone, I noticed that from the tables on the left you can see the banks of the river, people walking alongside the promenade, although most were half-running, hugging their coats tightly as they walked. I thought you’d probably would have liked that view and so I sat there.

I ordered a cappuccino, because it was what you drank on our date. It wasn’t that long ago and yet it feels like another lifetime.

Your sister is adorable. But you already know that. Thank her for me, tell her I’m fine and the moogles are brother and sister and it’d be cruel to split them up.

But it got me thinking… You said before that you bought that silk white scarf for me, remember? So many letters ago, before we even knew of our real identities. Have you kept it? Would you send it to me? That PO box of mine still works. I’ll keep it for us, I’ll cherish it, until we can be together, until I get to give it back to you so you can do whatever you want with it and with me. But having it close, being able to look at it and touch it, I think it would help. I have that lock of your hair carefully wrapped in a silk handkerchief on my bedside table. I look at it as I fall asleep always, sometimes I even keep it in my hand.

It’s more than I should be asking for; and yet, when it comes to you I always want more. So if you don’t mind parting with it, I would really appreciate that scarf. I don’t know what I could give you in return; but if there’s anything you want, just ask. I’ll give you anything of mine with the same candour I have given you my heart.

How did it go with Noct? I’m almost scared to ask. Did he say anything? I’m sorry you had to deal with all this on your own. I’m seeing him later tonight, but he’s more likely to talk to you. He’ll tell me anything about his life, but he’s rather coy when it comes to ask me direct questions about mine.

It is truly getting cold now. I’ve been sitting here, just writing to you, finished the coffee a while ago. The waiter asked me if I wanted cake with it, and I told him that ‘cake was a decadent pleasure best enjoyed with company.’ I’m pretty sure he has serious doubts regarding my sanity. I should leave before he decides I need help. Noct will get home soon anyway, and if I’m not there when he arrives, he might decide to interrogate me after all. For all that our prince is moody about it, he does like his routine.

I love you. Let me know how it went.

Blaze

 


	218. Chapter 218

> Subject: **Pass me the brain bleach when you’re done**
> 
> Mon, Nov 23 at 5:48 PM
> 
> From: deadoralive@eosmail.com
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com

 

Seriously? That's crazy. It's so old-fashioned. But c'mon dude, Miss Nobuo was just your music teacher, that's different. Gladio's your Shield, how could they fire him?

And Iggy, I mean, he's Ignis Freaking Scientia, he's probably the smartest person in all of Insomnia. It would be insane to get rid of him over something stupid like dating Gladio.

(Dating. Gladio. CAN YOU IMAGINE. I am so grossed out right now. Do you think he calls him wuss when they're in bed together bluuuggghhhhccchh)

 


	219. Chapter 219

> Subject: **DUDE, NO! (also get your own brain bleach, I’m going to need all of mine)**
> 
> Mon, Nov 23 at 7:16 PM
> 
> From: tackleandbait@eosmail.com
> 
> To: deadoralive@eosmail.com

 

Yeah, I know, it’s crazy. Welcome to my life. We’re a modern and open-minded kingdom; but oh no, Your Highness, you can’t possibly wear silver jewellery on a Wednesday. It’s bad luck since Who-The-Fuck the Third of His Name was assassinated with a silver fish knife six hundred years ago (for the trivia, they gouged his eye out before plunging it into his brain through his eye socket because it wasn’t sharp enough to kill him any other way, and the guy who succeeded him got a painting of the whole thing made. It’s kept in the Palace’s vault because we can’t rightly show it in public; it’s GORY as hell! We’ll have to sneak in one day so I can show it to you). And every time I argue that it’s superstitious nonsense, they’re all like ‘traditions are important, they make us who we are, blablabla…’

The only one who agrees it’s stupid is Ignis; well, except with protocolary rules and all at official meets and receptions. He’s a stickler for that stuff. Something about embodying my destiny in the eye of the people or some other crap he gets off on (shit, you think he gets Gladio to read him treatises on etiquette or something equally boring to get him in the mood? I wouldn’t even be surprised if he did ~____~ *brain bleach, brain bleach*).

Anyway, you can imagine that if they won’t budge on a piece of jewellery, they’re a nightmare when it comes to stuff like personal relationships in one House. Because you know, everybody should want to sacrifice their lives for great little old me and heavens forbid there exists anything in close proximity that might distract them from enthusiastically throwing themselves onto my blade should I order them to.

So. Much. Bullshit.

But, yeah, they can’t touch Gladio. Amicitia. Shield. Tradition stuff again. He’s about as cemented as it gets. Although if you think about it, it’d be kind of hilarious. I mean, what would he do with himself if he got removed? Stand on street corners haranguing passers-by, waving his fist at the sky and claiming that the Scourge will come for us all if we don’t start adding higher quality protein to our diet?

But I’ve been giving it some thought and Iggy is definitely another matter. I think they’d be pretty happy to have an excuse to move him to the Council full time - my Dad included. From their point of view that’s where his talents are the most useful, especially with everything that’s going on at the moment. And Ignis knows that, because they already tried it last year. Did I tell you about it?

Basically my Dad, and Gladio’s Dad, and Drautos and all that bunch told Iggy that they wanted him to spend more time on Council work because of all the crap the Empire has gotten up to recently. He’s provided them with useful insights a fair few times already, and they wanted him as a fresh strategic eye to look at everything. They were all like ‘Noct will be fine, we’ll get him a nanny or something.’ Fuckers. Not that anybody told me at the time, but Cor did later because you know him, he’s always ‘you need to be thankful for how much people do for you’ and so he had to tell me about the whole Iggy thing, so I could be appropriately grateful. Such a bore this one.

Anyway, Ignis got very _Ignis-y_ and said ‘I’ll do it, but only if you let me do it on top of everything else I already do. Including Noctis duty.’ If it had been anyone else they wouldn’t have agreed, but it’s Ignis, so of course, they said ‘yes’ and of course he’s been doing all of it ever since.

But if the Gladio and Ignis thing breaks out, they’ll all probably jump on the occasion to move him exclusively to my Dad’s service. And if they don’t, you can be sure some of the other nobles will stir shit up until it happens because it’s an open door to try to replace him as my tutor with someone who will be more amenable to their bribes and influence. They're rabid dogs, grappling for specks of power, and they wouldn't pass an opportunity given to them on a silver platter like that. Assholes.

But Ignis won’t let that happen because he’d rather give up Council work than tutoring me. And before you tell me to get my head out of my ass, I’m not swimming in my princely bullshit, he actually told me that himself.

We had a fight a few months ago. He wanted me to read yet another bloody report after I’d been doing homework for three hours or something and I told him to ‘shove it where the sun doesn’t shine, except wait you can’t because of the stick up your ass.’ I wasn’t in a good mood. It was shortly after Cor had told me about their whole plot to try and take Iggy away and I was really pissed off with it all. I know it wasn’t fair to take it out on him, but well, I snapped.

He told me to stop being a child and to take my responsibilities seriously. So I basically shouted at him to take a leaf out of his own book and that since he was so essential to the Council, he should just go and work for them and leave me alone.

He didn’t ask how I knew. He just looked straight at me and said - like it was the most obvious thing in the world: ‘You’re our future, Noct. Nothing is more important than you.’

What the hell do you answer to that? I think I just mumbled ‘whatever,’ went in my bedroom and slammed the door. I only came out again after he left, leaving dinner on the table, with the bloody report alongside it. And he quizzed me on it the next day. Bastard. Yeah, I’d read it. He’s a manipulative asshole, I always end up doing what he wants.

Fuck, Gladio must hate me if that’s why they can’t be together. Maybe I should talk to him, make sure I got that right. What do you think?

 


	220. Chapter 220

> Subject: **It makes me unreasonably happy to imagine you there**
> 
> Mon, Nov 23 at 11:44 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Sweet love,

I didn't forget. I've kept the scarf safe ever since that night, hoping I would have another chance to give it to you. I'll mail it tomorrow. I only wish I'd been able to give it to you in person. We'll have a chance again someday, though, I know we will. I've never had any particular faith in the gods but by Shiva, I have faith in this. When it happens you can give me that long-promised trimming kit. Ideally over a couple of very strong espressos, which I imagine we'll both need by that point.

Sorry I couldn't be there with you today to help herd those blathering idiots into order, but I don't have your patience (which is probably why I rarely get invited to Council affairs). Don't worry about Noct. I think he's forgotten about it already. He didn't ask any strange questions at practice this afternoon. In fact, he seemed oddly focused. It's cheering to see him less withdrawn than usual. Perhaps Prompto's yearbook club has given him a project to fix his mind on outside of his own worries.

And of course I was only joking about the trimming kit. I thought a while about what boon I would ask of you. What I want most, now, is to take your hand in both of mine and press it against my heart. To keep you safe and near me. It was a long day. I'm weary of intrigue. I'm weary of the political skeins that entangle us, of the endless border reports of destruction and suffering. I'm a fighter, but I need something I can swing a sword at. This nebulous, unending war won't be solved with swords, I think. I told you once I'm an optimist, but I'm beginning to wonder if it will ever be solved at all.

Will you tell me a story? I miss them, how we used to entertain ourselves so many letters ago. I don't mean— I'm not fishing for that kind of story. Tell me how it will be in a few years, when we can put this all behind us and be together, really together. It's your words I fell in love with, Ignis, and I find that it's your words I crave now. Tell me a story about how happy we'll be together. We might look different then. I might have the beginnings of lines between my brows. You might have a touch of gray at your temples, although I pray the gods we won't have to wait that long. But you'll still be the same Blaze I fell in love with so many years ago. Tell me what it will be like then, with all obstacles removed and both of us free to love each other openly and joyfully and unburdened by duty.

Don't think less of me for asking this. I know it's sentimental. But I admit that I'm longing for some simple comfort. And I miss you desperately.

I'm curled under the covers now, writing to you on my phone, and you feel so close—I'm grateful we can still write to each other, at least—but yet you’re still so far. It hasn't rained in days. I wish I could hear the storm beating against my windows and know you’re hearing it too.

I'll dream of you,

Behemoth

 


	221. Chapter 221

> Subject: **Treatises on etiquette… cookbooks… articles about how to arrange your underwear drawer**
> 
> Tue, Nov 24 at 12:01 PM
> 
> From: deadoralive@eosmail.com
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com

 

What is this gloop. I think it used to be a vegetable. Where the hell are you? Did you get out of school lunch again with some excuse about allergies? I would kill for one of Iggy's little lemon tarts right now.

So hey, speaking of Iggy, I totally forgot about this. When I saw them at that art show? He was carrying flowers. I didn't think anything of it at the time since the market is right next door and lots of people are always walking around with flowers and baguettes and whatever. Do you think Gladio gave them to him? That's actually… sweet I guess.

Now I feel kinda bad for making fun of them. Like, they must be serious or it wouldn't be such a big deal. And that sucks. Does Ignis even have any friends beside you? He probably gets lonely. It's not like he has a social life. And even when you throw a party, it's all lords and ladies. Everyone regular is carrying trays. Iggy must feel out of place sometimes. Remember at your birthday party when they were teasing him about picking up your socks?

Yeah I do think you should try talking to the big guy after practice again today. I know you couldn't get anything out of him on Friday, but that was before we talked to Iris. She texted me this morning that he found out she told us about the glove. So he's probably expecting it anyway… and he's probably going to KILL you… haha run fast dude

 


	222. Chapter 222

> Subject: **Blaze, please forgive me. I'm so sorry. I love you.**
> 
> Tue, Nov 24 at 6:35 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

I meant to drop your scarf in the mailbox after training with Noct but maybe now you won't want it after all.

I don't know how to—I keep trying to explain but my words fall flat on the screen and I don't deserve excuses. I'm just going to paste in the screenshot and you can read it for yourself.

 

 

 

Today 6:01 PM

[NOCTIS]: Hey big guy, Iggy always says I have to apologise if I make people uncomfortable. Even if it was unavoidable or for a good reason. So, sorry. No hard feelings, okay?

[GLADIO]: No worries

[NOCTIS]: Seriously though, you need to work on your poker face. Because I don’t care how many times you said it, you didn’t look okay. You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?

[GLADIO]: You’ll understand when you're older. It's not like you just stop feeling something because you broke up

[NOCTIS]: Seriously? Like seriously? You’re going with the ‘when you’re older’ rhetoric? I’m not a kid anymore, Gladio. That’s cheap and disrespectful. I expect better of you. Can you feel me rolling my eyes? Because you should. Rolling them so hard it hurts. Why did you want to break up then? It doesn’t make sense.

[GLADIO]: Sorry Noct

[GLADIO]: But you haven't been in love before

[GLADIO]: Have you?

[GLADIO]: That's what I meant

[NOCTIS]: Whatever. Maybe I can’t get the whole feeling thing but I can still tell when you’re evading. Why did you want to break up?

[GLADIO]: I told you

[GLADIO]: It's complicated

[GLADIO]: Ask Iggy

[NOCTIS]: You say that because he can talk for two hours and not answer a single damn question when he wants to. Don’t be a coward, Gladio. Besides, I think I know why you don’t want to tell me.

[GLADIO]: Uh OK Noct

[GLADIO]: This I gotta hear

[NOCTIS]: It’s because of me, isn’t it? It’s because Iggy’s worried they’re going to question your loyalties or some bullshit like that? Dare say it’s not.

[GLADIO]: Noct

[GLADIO]: They can't question my loyalties

[GLADIO]: I'm your Shield

[GLADIO]: Nothing can change that

[NOCTIS]: You’re deflecting. So I’m right. What about Iggy’s loyalties?

[NOCTIS]: It’s easy. Just tell me ‘Noct, you’re wrong. This has nothing to do with you.’ I’ll wait.

[GLADIO]: Are you ordering me to answer

[NOCTIS]: You can’t say it, can you?

[NOCTIS]: Fine. You know I don’t like doing that, but fine. It’s an order, Lord Shield.

[GLADIO]: Fuck

[GLADIO]: Iggy is going to kill me

[GLADIO]: OK

[GLADIO]: It's maybe a little about you

[GLADIO]: Because he doesn't want to risk his job

[GLADIO]: Teaching you I mean

[GLADIO]: But that's not your fault

[GLADIO]: It's just politics

[GLADIO]: He doesn't have a title like I do, you know

[GLADIO]: There wouldn't be anything I could do if they decided to get rid of him

[NOCTIS]: See, wasn’t that hard. But thanks for answering even though you didn’t want to.

[NOCTIS]: And they would too. Get rid of him, I mean. Well, move him from my House. Dad wants him for the Council. Full time. Iggy knows. Has he told you?

[GLADIO]: No! Why didn't he tell me that? Shit, Noct, that's bad. You couldn't find a better teacher than Iggy. And it would destroy him. I'm not exaggerating

[GLADIO]: Do you know how important you are to him?

[GLADIO]: And yes it was hard, you little jerk. He’ll probably never speak to me again.

[NOCTIS]: Just tell him it was an order. You’ve got the text messages to prove it.

[NOCTIS]: And you’re the one who’s dating him… or was, anyway. You should know he doesn’t like to talk about himself, especially if he doesn’t think it’s going to change anything. That or he thought he’d sound conceited if he mentioned it. Or both.

[NOCTIS]: And yes, I do know. He told me before. I’m the future, and I’m important and all that. If he would just stop it with the vegetables, I’d have no complaints.

[NOCTIS]: But sorry, big guy. It sucks. Thinking of you two together is kind of freakish, but if it’d make you happy, what the hell. I could get behind it. On principle only. Wouldn’t want to see anything weird.

[GLADIO]: Yeah well you don't have to worry about that

[GLADIO]: It's over

[GLADIO]: Thanks though

[GLADIO]: Don't forget to practice that arm stretch I showed you

[NOCTIS]: Yeah, yeah. Arm stretch, stretchy stretchy… I know.

[NOCTIS]: Tell me one last thing. If it wasn’t for all the political bullshit, would you still want to date him?

[GLADIO]: Noct, look, it's not going to happen. Forget about it, please

[NOCTIS]: Just answer the damn question. Yes or no?

[GLADIO]: Fine. Yes. Of course yes. I'm in love with him.

[GLADIO]: Now I'm not answering any more questions

[NOCTIS]: Fine. I’ll give you a pass. This time. :P

 


	223. Chapter 223

 

 

Today 7:44 PM

[NOCTIS]: Hey man. Guess what? I was right.

[PROMPTO]: About Miss Yoshitaka? I KNEW IT

[PROMPTO]: Definitely more than tea in that flask

[NOCTIS]: No, not that. Who cares about Miss Yoshitaka! You can smell it on her from two hundred yards away.

[NOCTIS]: No, about Gladio and Iggy. They’ve stopped dating because of me. Because Iggy is worried they’ll use it as a pretext to mess with his job as my tutor.

[NOCTIS]: Damn it, Prompto. I feel bad. It’s kinda my fault.

[PROMPTO]: Oh THAT

[PROMPTO]: Ignis Freaking Scientia

[PROMPTO]: Was seriously dating GLADIO???

[PROMPTO]: What do they possibly even have in common?

[PROMPTO]: OK sorry

[PROMPTO]: Still processing that

[PROMPTO]: But how is it your fault? There's nothing you can do about it

[NOCTIS]: I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I guess maybe it’s one of those cases of opposites attract or something.

[NOCTIS]: Well, it’s my fault because if it wasn’t for me Iggy could just go work for the Council and he could date Gladio and they’d be happy. But I know he won’t want to. And frankly, I don’t want him to either. I guess I am a selfish brat after all. And what’s the point of being the goddamn crown prince if I can’t do anything… But it’s not like anyone would listen to me. I’d only get them in trouble. This is so fucked up.

[PROMPTO]: Hey Noct, that's not true. Iggy's like your best friend beside me of course. It’s not selfish. You guys need each other

[PROMPTO]: Have you talked to him about it?

[NOCTIS]: Yeah, I know. And no, not yet. I’m sure Gladio is going to tell him he told me. So I’m waiting for him to say something. Seems like the right thing to do. I’ll let you know how it goes.

 


	224. Chapter 224

 

 

Today 8:20 PM

[IGNIS]: Noct, Gladio just told me about your conversation.

[IGNIS]: Listen, you can’t say anything. Not to anyone. I can’t stress this enough. You must keep it to yourself.

[NOCTIS]: I know. Gladio explained. I get it.

[IGNIS]: Good. I mean it. Not a word. Not even to Prompto.

[NOCTIS]: The thing is… he kind of knows already. You were both acting weird and we talked about it. But it’s okay. He won’t say anything either.

[IGNIS]: Shiva have mercy on us all. This is going to turn into a disaster.

[NOCTIS]: Hey! Prompto is trustworthy! :(

[IGNIS]: I know. I didn’t mean he wasn’t. But there are only so many people who can be aware of a secret before it ceases to be a secret. Secrets are dangerous, they tend to find a life of their own and grow and spread of their own volition. But at least, this whole thing is in the past. It’s no longer relevant, or not much anyway. We’ve got that in our favour.

[NOCTIS]: I’m sorry it is. I know it’s not what you guys wanted.

[IGNIS]: It’s nothing you should worry about. Life has a way of taking its own course.

[NOCTIS]: Well, it still sucks.

[IGNIS]: Speaking of, I’m disappointed in you, Noct.

[NOCTIS]: There it is. 

[IGNIS]: Do not joke with me, Highness. I am serious.

[NOCTIS]: I know. I’m sorry.

[IGNIS]: Not enough. Abusing your position to satisfy your curiosity is disgraceful and should have been beneath you.

[NOCTIS]: I know! But you guys were acting weird and I was worried.

[IGNIS]: We both told you we were fine. Yet, instead of accepting to take us at our word and respecting our will, you had to go and force Gladio’s hand. You blatantly deemed your own curiosity more important than Gladio’s right to privacy. A rather flippant and dishonourable attitude, I expect better of you.

[NOCTIS]: Neither of you looked fine!

[IGNIS]: Even so. Do we have to go over the difference between obedience and respect again, Noct?

[NOCTIS]: No. I know.

[IGNIS]: Tell me.

[IGNIS]: I’m waiting.

[NOCTIS]: Fine, you stubborn ass! Obedience can be forced but respect has to be earned.

[NOCTIS]: And only respect leads to true loyalty.

[IGNIS]: Ordering Gladio to tell you about personal matters when he had stated he did not wish to do so was not conducive to earning his respect. I hope you can reflect on that.

[NOCTIS]: I know. I get it.

[IGNIS]: Recent events seem to indicate otherwise.

[NOCTIS]: Iggy…

[NOCTIS]: Don’t be mad. Please.

[IGNIS]: We’ll talk tomorrow, Noct.

[NOCTIS]: Okay. I’m sorry.

[IGNIS]: I know. Good night, Highness.

[NOCTIS]: Good night, Iggy.

 


	225. Chapter 225

> Subject: **He didn’t play fair, darling.**
> 
> Tue, Nov 24 at 10:28 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Don’t be so hard on yourself. He left you no way out and he knew it too. If it makes you feel any better, I have told him off for it. Cornering you like that was beneath him and I made sure he couldn’t just brush this off. Prompto knows too apparently. I’ll need to have a talk with him. I think they understand enough that they won’t say anything.

I’m sorry you had to go through all that, and thank you for explaining it all to him in such a sensitive manner.

Are you angry with me for not telling you about the Council? They keep on pushing for me to spend more time on their work, every so often someone will even mention my tutoring duty as being my ‘non-essential work,’ but so far I’ve managed to balance it. But Noct is right, I didn’t think it fundamentally changed anything; otherwise, I would have told you about it. As it was, it just seemed needlessly cruel to mention it. It might have seemed like a simple solution to our problems, but one I couldn’t afford to consider, not with Noct at stake. I didn’t want you to feel you weren’t important enough to me. I’m sorry, love.

Although… I’m still not being fully honest. If you want the whole truth, I was worried what you’d say. Some people seem to think that choosing to prioritise Noct over the current world events - particularly at the rate the conflict is worsening - is selfish of me. I do what I can on both fronts. Yet, I’ve been told that I should know better, that I should put Lucis first, that Noct has other talented people looking after him - you for one, that I should just go where I’m told I’m most needed. It is a source of grim amusement for me that some on the Council want me for the insights I can provide and the leaps I can make; yet, they do not trust me to be able to know how to best organise my duties. Thankfully, His Majesty has let me do as I please so far but I worry it might change if the conflict gets any more envenomed.

Anyway, I didn’t know what I’d have said if you’d hinted at something similar, that maybe it would be better if I just relented, that Noct is old enough now and would be fine without me. I didn’t want to hear this from you. You probably wouldn’t have; but I wonder sometimes… If these people have a point, if I’m so stubborn about Noct because of personal feelings rather than because of the supposedly grand duty and devotion I hide behind. What if I’m just being selfish? How would I even know, when this duty has been my whole life for so long?

Enough of this for now; I didn’t mean to go overly introspective on you.

Do send me the scarf, darling. This changes nothing; you did nothing wrong. Whatever happens now, we’ll have to deal with it as it comes and do our best to limit the damage.

And of course, I will write you that story you asked for. More than one if you wish. Imagining us happy and free has become my main hobby of late. It felt insensitive to share those gorgeous musings of mine, but if you long to know them, I want nothing more but to gift them to you.

For tonight, however, I’ll stop here. It’s been a long day.

I love you.

Blaze

 


	226. Chapter 226

> Subject: **Nothing's playing fair right now. We're due a lucky break, aren't we?**
> 
> Wed, Nov 25 at 7:33 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

I don't deserve you. But thank you.

Of course I'm not angry you didn't tell me about the Council. I don't get access to every detail of your life and I wouldn't expect it. And I know your job comes first. You've told me that from the start, you've never led me on. It's one of the things I love about you.

Being a member of the Prince's House myself, I am, admittedly, biased; but as Noctis will ultimately be wielding the power of the Crystal, I can't imagine any argument that could logically de-prioritize his needs. And as much as it grieves me to say this, that day seems to be approaching more quickly than we'd anticipated. Sometimes I wonder if we struck a wise bargain with the gods when we accepted its power. In any case, putting Noctis first is the same thing as putting Lucis first. That's what I've sworn my life to, and I know you have too.

Someday, though, I'd like to see you be truly selfish. More even than in Dawnigh. Somewhere luxurious, somewhere that you'd shine like a jewel on a velvet glove. I want to bring you gifts as you lie sprawled in the sheets, sated and accepting them as your due. I want to take you to dinner someplace where there aren't ketchup stains on the counters. Someday I will.

I’ll put the scarf in the mail this afternoon. And yes, a thousand times yes, send me all the stories you have. We're going to need them.

I love you, Ignis.

B.

 


	227. Chapter 227

> Subject: **Heads up.**
> 
> Wed, Nov 25 at 11:49 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Sorry for the spontaneous email but I thought you deserved a warning. Noct is going to be moody and will challenge your patience at every turn this afternoon. Please don’t hurt him; well, don’t hurt him too much. As long as I don’t have to take him to the hospital afterwards I’ll have no complaints.

We’ve had a rough morning. His Majesty has asked that I bring Noct to the Council meetings and the following audience sessions every so often. I have to pull him out of school for it, so I tend to bring him only once a month so he doesn’t miss too many classes.

Anyway, the morning started with some more rough news about the northern border, more imperial incursions. But this time, they’ve started building footholds in the hills. They obviously intend to stay and push us back towards Insomnia. You can imagine how grim the mood was. We got the first estimation of casualties an hour later. Noct looked like he was going to be sick.

There were lots of murmurs about sending a detachment of soldiers to try and take back the village of Vishno, at least momentarily to buy time for the refugees to move towards safe territory. But His Majesty silenced everybody. He gave the order for the troops to fall back. A courier left at once. The air was so still in the Council chambers I could hear the birds outside.

Then, one of the Glaives who was standing guard (we have a few of them inside the room after last week’s threats) threw himself at the King’s feet, crying, saying his family lived in those hills to the East, that the Empire hadn’t gotten there yet but they needed the road to be free to make it to safety. He was begging His Majesty for mercy. Everybody was frozen in place. The King started to frown and I braced myself. He hasn’t been in a good mood of late.

‘They’re bait,’ he said. ‘They’re already dead. We are not sacrificing good men and women for a lost cause.’

The Glaive was sobbing by that point just repeating ‘don’t, please, don’t’ over and over again. It was heart-wrenching.

‘Get him out of our sight,’ The King said.

Cor - bless his soul - dragged the man back to his feet and got a few of his comrades to take him away. But His Majesty wasn’t done.

‘Send that man back to civilian service.’

‘It’s his family, Your Grace,’ Cor tried. ‘He’s a good soldier.’

But the King waved him off. His face was cold.

‘We don’t have time for this,’ he just said. ‘This is war. If any of you think your personal interests and bonds trump the good of the country, resign your commissions now.’

Nobody moved for a second. Then Noct got up and left slamming the door, I made an obeisance and ran after him but I didn’t reach the exit.

‘Scientia,’ His Majesty said. I stopped. ‘Since you’re so bent on babysitting him, we expect you to do a better job of it than that. He’s an embarrassment.’

Being singled out in such circumstances is never a good thing, but in that tone… I felt my blood turn to ice in my veins. He sounded so cold and angry. But there was little I could do; I know from experience that trying to justify myself or Noctis only makes things worse. I bowed, apologised as respectfully as I could, bowed again and left. Noct was waiting for me in the car, all stroppy, saying all sorts of horrible things about his father. I tried to defuse it all as best I could, but it wasn’t easy. His Majesty is growing impatient and restless under the Empire’s thumb, and I can see the exhaustion clawing at him a bit deeper each day.

Anyway, Noct wanted to go home and lock himself in his bedroom, but I didn’t budge. I stuck with our planned schedule because brooding about will do him no good. He will be difficult but some exercise with you might change his mind and tire him out enough that he gets some sleep tonight. Just be patient, you know how he gets when he’s hurting.

I’ll write a more pleasant letter tonight.

All my love,

Blaze

 


	228. Chapter 228

> Subject: **No hospital visit today, so I’ll count it a success**
> 
> Wed, Nov 25 at 5:21 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Fuck, Iggy, I'm sorry.

Thanks for the warning. I haven't seen Cor or my father today and that probably explains it. I had no idea. Vishno is lost? That's pretty bad, right? I'm trying to think how this could come out okay and I'm drawing a blank. They're so close to Cleigne now. Does it ever seem crazy to you that we keep going through the motions of high formal dinners and masquerade balls when the end seems so perilously near? Sometimes I feel we're all living some kind of shared delusion.

Practice was a bit awkward this afternoon. I think Noct was embarrassed after the dressing-down you gave him last night. He actually apologized! I told him not to worry about it, that I knew he was only trying to help. Then he said if we'd wanted to be so secret about it, why did we wear matching costumes to the ball? I had to laugh. I guess he has a point. It didn't seem like anyone would notice us at the time, did it? I suppose we're not as invisible as we thought.

He wasn't as moody as you suggested he might be, though. I wonder if he's recently grown up a bit more than either you or I had realized. We're so used to thinking of him as a child. He's old enough to be conscripted now, you know, if he weren't the prince.

Anyway, it was nice to get an unexpected morning email. All your letters are pleasant, love, because they're full of you. I look forward to the next one.

All my love,

Behemoth

 


	229. Chapter 229

> Subject: **I got a bit carried away, but happiness with you is everything.**
> 
> Wed, Nov 25 at 10:55 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Thank you for being so understanding. And yes, I think we agree that Noct is so important to our future and our survival that it would be short-sighted to not focus on him as much as we’re able to. I just hope there will still be a kingdom for him to govern when his turn to ascend the throne comes.

As for the costumes, our dalliance seemed so impossible and absurd back then, I didn’t think anyone would notice. But Noct has always been sharp when he bothers paying attention, and Prompto is forever staring at everything through that camera lens of his. It turns out they’re probably a more dangerous combination of talents than I realised.

And you’re right about Noct. He has grown. Not enough to fully control his temper, but enough to get out of his stroppy mood on his own more rapidly than he used to. We had a long chat. I tried to explain to him the kind of pressure his father is under - how difficult decisions take much more of a toll on a good man than they would on a tyrant. His Majesty never liked to complain and I cannot imagine how hard it must be, making those kind of calls, dealing with the constant exhaustion from sustaining the Wall and the Glaives, and having no time to look after the son he loves so dearly. I asked Noct to think about how his own behaviour reflected on his father and on himself as the future ruler of the country. I pointed out that stomping his feet and exiting by slamming the door was hardly a good way to handle his frustration and hurt in the face of the recent events, only served to portray him as a moody and difficult child. He actually answered me, said he understood, when I'd only expected him to listen sullenly.

His relationship with his father has always been difficult. As much as they love each other, His Majesty's desire that Noct was brought up away from the throne, leading a more 'normal life,' has estranged them somewhat. The King does not have the luxury to forget his responsibilities, not even for a moment. And the recent events haven't helped; the last two dinners they were supposed to share got cancelled following news from the border. But Noct was much calmer than I expected when I dropped him off at the training centre. I’m still glad to know he wasn’t too much of a handful. Although I’m surprised he remembered the conversation we had yesterday after all that happened this morning. I guess it made more of an impression on him than I thought. Our Prince does have a big heart and he is growing into a good man.

But enough serious talk. I have a present for you that I very much hope you’ll like. We deserve a break as you say, and if it has to be imagined happiness, then so be it. For now, it will be enough. You said ‘in a few years’ and it got me thinking. If we’re lucky enough for the conflict to subside and to know peace again, there’s a conference on the evolution of diplomatic strategies through the ages that’s organised by the University of Altissia every couple of years. They have the best speakers coming from all of Eos and I’ve always wanted to go… Of course, it would also be the perfect excuse for a get-away. You could come along, go see the sights when I’m at the talks for a couple of days and then we could stay for the weekend, just the two of us, away from duty and Lucis’s politics. So I ran with it, and I might have gotten a bit carried away, but you wanted a story. Here’s one.

 

~ ~ ~

 

By the time I get out of the final lecture on Friday afternoon, you’re all I think about. I know you’re there waiting for me from the whispers in the lobby of the hotel. You always turn heads - men and women alike - wherever you go, but in Accordo you also have the appeal of being unknown. You wear an air of mystery about you, confident, noble, so strong, like you belong anywhere… It’s caught the attention of the crowd. They look at you, inspect you like they would a painting, imagine all sorts of secret identities to fit your magnificence, giggle to themselves as they do. You pretend not to notice, leaning nonchalantly against a marble pillar. You’re all I see. I push through the sea of onlookers, hear a couple of women commenting on how hot you look, standing there in nothing but a pair of cotton pants and an open jacket. And I smirk, tell them ‘that he is, and he’s also very much not available, ladies.’

I take your hand, pull you outside, away from the attention of the curious. You laugh softly but you don’t resist. I get jealous sometimes as silly as it is, but I think you secretly enjoy it. It’s the beginning of the autumn and the air is still warm, the weather beautifully clear. You take my jacket when I hand it to you, so I can undo my cuffs and roll my sleeves up my forearms. Your eyes follow my movements, intense and precise, the eyes of a trained fighter and hunter. For all that I pretend to stay impassive, heat always rushes to my skin in response.

You wait until I’m done before taking my arm and brushing your lips to the inside of my wrist. Even after all these years, that simple gesture has kept an intimate and sacred dimension for us. I shiver, probably imperceptible to the world around us, but you can’t miss it. You smile against my skin for an instant, but this is not the place for you to abuse the power you have over me. You don’t let go though, only peel off my glove, put my hand in yours and lace our fingers together.

‘Fancy a stroll? I’ve passed through a lot of pretty spots today.’

‘Show me then.’

We walk in silence for a few minutes. It’s nice, peaceful. I let my shoulder brush against yours with each step. Your hand is pleasantly warm. But I have to ask.

‘How was the Totomostro?’

That gets me a quick side glance, but you don’t deny it.

‘How did you know?’

‘Two days alone in Altissia having to keep yourself occupied, you had to go see the monsters at some point. And you’ve already told me what you were up to yesterday. Not that you’re predictable or anything, darling. Just consistent.’

You huff in answer.

‘You seem in a good mood. Big wins?’

‘I’m in a good mood because we’re having the whole weekend to ourselves in Altissia, love. But yes, if you must know, this trip is going to cost us very little in the end.’

‘Noct is going to have a field day lecturing you about gambling when we’re back.’

‘Eh, I’ll have you know it’s not gambling if you know which one’s gonna win.’

‘Of course, darling. You tell that to our king.’

We laugh. Bantering with you is effortless. We’re always so busy, we seldom have the time to go for unhurried, aimless walks like this one; and it’s making me happier than I can say. Your lips are parted in the shadow of a smile, have been since we reunited. You’re beautiful and mine and I am the luckiest man in the whole of Eos.

We follow a sandy promenade near a canal. A lot of people are fishing, down in the rocks of the pier; it’s a good time of day for it. We watch as they bring in their shimmering, struggling catch.

‘I found a fishing spot when I was wandering around today. In a big garden. There’s a small entry fee but it’s so peaceful and quiet, it’s worth it. They’ve got weeping willows cascading down from high brick walls, When the light peers down through the leaves, the whole place glows green… It’s not far from the hotel and I thought you’d like it. We could spend a few hours there this weekend.’

I never got really good at fishing, but I always like watching you anyway. If I’m lucky, it’ll be warm enough that you’ll take off your shirt and I’ll sit and revel in the full view of the muscles rippling in your back and arms.

‘Only if you’d enjoy it though…’

I got sidetracked, didn’t answer you fast enough. I look at you, smirk.

‘Watching you show off, dear? Trust me, I’ll enjoy it.’

‘Love you too.’

We start walking again. The wind grows stronger as the night approaches. It tastes like salt and smells of the lilies that decorate the window sills high above the street. We’re on the edge of the old city, looking at the bay leading to the open sea. There’s a hint of gold in the clouds but the sun has a long way to go still to embrace the horizon.

‘Would it be too cliché if I said we should sit and watch the sunset?’

‘Nothing is too cliché if I get to do it with you.’

Your delivery is perfectly deadpan but I have to laugh at the cheesiness. You smile in answer, amused. I can’t complain when I started it.

‘Come then.’

There are benches alongside the promenade but I sit on the edge of the waterfront instead. I don’t let go as I do, but instead of following suit you pull out of my grasp. I barely have time to wonder why that already you’ve slipped behind me, your arms wrapped loosely around my waist to hold me against you. You rest your chin on my shoulder, let out a contented sigh.

‘See. Cliché is good.’

My fingers run up and down your forearms. Muscles twitch under my touch. You feel so alive.

‘It’s perfect.’

We watch the sun go down. The sky is a kaleidoscopic maelstrom. I’ve seen pictures of Altissia sunsets before, in postcards and photography books. But the reality of it is breathtaking. It’s not the most important part of the memory this will become though. The most important part is always how real you feel against me, the weight of your arms, the softness of your hair brushing against my cheek with each gust of wind, the settled rhythm of your breathing.

There’s hardly anybody around anymore. The sun finally touches the horizon, starts leaking fire into the sea. I feel you tense suddenly. I don’t say anything, just still my hands, rest them on your own. You know I’ve noticed.

‘There’s a guy in the bushes to the right.’

‘Paparazzo?’

‘Hmm… probably. He better not come closer.’

We’re used to it. Living in such close proximity to the Lucian crown, our lives are rarely private outside our own home. You’re the Lord Shield of the King of Lucis after all, people like to swoon while thinking of you. It’s still a disappointment to find ourselves craving true privacy here too. Unfortunately, Altissia is hardly a remote destination. I can’t bring myself to care. There’ll just be a few pictures in the tabloids when we get back. We’ve both had to deal with much worse before. I twist around so I can catch your eyes.

‘If he’s going to take pictures anyway, want to give him a good shot?’

You blink; it takes a second for understanding to dawn on you. But when it does, you just smile, that blinding, happy smile that you never show to anyone else. You’re still smiling when you kiss me.

When we finally break apart, the sun is gone; the sky has turned a dark cobalt. We’ve missed the most exciting part of the sunset, and I don’t regret a second of it. We can try again tomorrow. Part of me hopes it’ll end up the same way.

The wind got colder; you let go of me as I reach for my jacket.

‘Getting chilly, isn’t it? We should get going anyway, I’ve got us reservations for dinner. A fancy restaurant on a floating pontoon or something. Might be a bit touristy but the guide at the museum recommended it yesterday.’

‘Sounds nice.’

‘Yeah, hopefully. Give me a second, I’ll rid us of our escort first.’

I don’t watch, busy myself with getting my outfit presentable again, but I can’t miss the squeal and the sound of footsteps running away. It makes me laugh. You can appear terrifying when you want to be.

You come back towards me looking as amused as I feel.

‘All done?’

‘Yeah… I don’t think that one is going to bother us again. Not tonight anyway.’

‘Good. So where’s that restaurant of yours?’

You check the tourist guide you’ve been carrying around, look at the map for a minute before gesturing towards the south.

‘This way. We’ll have to take a gondola at some point, but we need to find the right line and stop first.’

I take your hand again, let you guide us. The city looks different by night, phantasmagorical and golden. It feels more foreign. Faint guitar music falls into the street from the inside of the houses, blending together with the delicate aroma of fish sizzling in oil and exotic spices.

We walk for a while, but you can’t hide your hesitation every time the street we’re following split into a multitude of twisted alleyways. You check the map every so often. We cross a canal, shortly after cross it again. Eventually, we end up in an inner court. It’s a dead end. I can’t hide my mirth.

You growl, sounding annoyed but still smiling.

‘Stop it. You have no idea where we are either.’

‘None whatsoever,’ I admit easily.

You look at the map again, frown as if you were getting a headache.

‘This city is so confusing. It looks like streets should connect, but when you get there you realise they’re on two different levels. You head in the right direction and after two hundred yards there’s an unavoidable hairpin bend or a bridge you were never planning to take…’

I shouldn’t laugh - you’re obviously frustrated, but I can’t help it.

‘The Great Lord Shield’s impeccable survival skills finally defeated. Who would have thought Altissia would do it…’

‘Hush, love.’

I kiss your cheek in a silent plea for forgiveness, lean on your arm to take a look at the map. You’re right - of course, you are - it makes little sense.

‘Let’s just keep walking.’

Another half hour and we have dived deep into the inner belly of the city. We’ve asked for directions a couple of times. People try to be helpful but their long familiarity with the maze of the streets renders their advice vague and difficult to follow. After a few turns, we end up lost again.

We’ve stumbled onto a few gondola stops, but neither of us want to give up. It’s enjoyable - exciting - to try to find our way in the darkened alleyways. It’s a beautiful city and for the first time since we arrived, I truly feel we’re on holiday.

We go down a flight of steps, holding the handrail in the half-light, to yet another paved canal bank. As we turn a corner, we’re greeted by music and warm lighting. It’s a small restaurant, obviously not a touristic place. Laughter spills out through the open door. Exposed beams are jutting out of a low ceiling. A few tables outside are sitting Altissian patrons still in their work clothes, speaking softly and relaxing after a long day.

A balding man in a black apron gestures us forward.

‘Well done, gentlemen, you found it! The secret place that serves the best fish in all of Accordo. Come, come.’

We exchange a look. It took me years to learn how good being spontaneous can feel. Letting go of my carefully planned agenda used to be unpleasantly stressful for me. Not anymore. Not when it comes to our time together anyway.

‘Might as well,’ you say, ‘we weren’t making much progress. Get us a table, I’ll phone the other restaurant to cancel.’

The waiter leads me to an empty table in a dark corner on the edge of the water, away from the ones already set up.

‘We’d be okay with…’ I start.

But the man waves my protest off.

‘Altissia is the city of love,’ he says. ‘You two are in love, so you must have a candlelight dinner. You sit here. I’ll bring candles.’

It’s a sound argument if there ever was one. There’s a knot in my throat as I pull up a chair. It’s such a small thing, such simple words… ‘You two are in love.’ And yet, it took us so long and so much heartbreak to reach a point where everyone can see the obvious truth, hearing it feels magical.

You don’t say anything when you sit down, only stare at me. Telltale lines always appear between your eyes when you’re left pondering. You reach out and offer your hand, palm up on the table. Giving you mine in return is instinctive. Your thumb draws soothing circles on my skin.

‘You’re okay?’ you ask, always sensitive and concerned even after all our years together.

‘I’m wonderful.’

It is but the truth. You smile at me, soft and loving, the kind of smile that makes me ache for you.

The restaurant doesn’t have a written menu. The waiter cheerfully lists a series of dishes - most of them fish or seafood. I recognise a few, but many are unknown. You look puzzled. It’s rare to see you so unguarded, comical and enjoyable all at once.

‘We’ll go with whatever the kitchen recommends,’ I say. It’s simpler this way.

‘You won’t regret it, gentlemen,’ the waiter nods enthusiastically. ‘Shall I also choose some wine for you?’

‘Of course.’

Dinner is a drawn out, lovely affair. Dishes come out one after the other, fragrant and delicate. They’re placed in the middle of the table for us to share. The finesse is surprising from such an unassuming eating place. A hidden gem in the belly of the grand city. We talk of anything and everything. Of our journey here. Of the lecture I gave that afternoon. Of the monster fights that impressed you the most. Of the ambitious plans we have for the rest of the weekend. We eat and food keeps coming. I’m starting to believe they took one look at your bulk and decided you had to eat for five men.

Finally, we have to ask for mercy. We couldn’t swallow another bite. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get defeated by food before. Altissia is full of surprises.

But the waiter is not done with us. ‘Now, shall I call a gondola ride for you to see the city’s night lights from the laguna?’

Your eyes are bright in the candlelight.

‘We’re so doing it,’ you say.

‘Obviously.’

That’s how we find ourselves sitting on a comfortable padded bench in the middle of a gondola, your arm around me and my head on your shoulder. It’s the perfect end to a lovely - if rather improvised - evening. Too often ensnared by duty and politics, we’ve only managed a handful of peaceful moments like this one over the years, moments that are only about the two of us, moments when the rest of the world ceases to matter. But while I sometimes regret how few our escapades have been, I do enjoy how romantic they have left us. We’re still as hopelessly starry-eyed about each other, about our relationship, as we were as teenagers. And I never want it to change.

We get far enough on the water that the city seems made up of beautiful but chaotic heaps of burning lanterns in the distance. Our gondolier reads the atmosphere well, his presence behind us almost invisible except for the regular and soothing sound of the oar slicing through the water.

We circle the old city. Jelly fish swim around the laguna, a soundless ballet of thousands of phosphorescent flowers.

I don’t feel it coming. All it takes is your lips brushing my hair to make me forget the lulling water, the hypnotic lights. Suddenly nothing exists but the firm line of your body against mine. My hand tenses on your thigh for an instant, my fingertips smoothing the fabric. And you know. You always know. I can never hide from you when my desires suddenly come alive. Your hand tips my chin up, turns my head so you can meet my eyes. Whatever you see in them, a wild fire flares in your gaze in answer.

‘Let’s head back.’

I nod. You already know what I want.

We don’t rush as we make it back to our hotel room. If there’s one thing time has taught us, it’s that patience brings its own rewards. It wasn’t an easy lesson to learn. Sometimes I think back to our stolen, furtive embraces in those first years together. We were so rash, so impatient back then, and it was so very good. But I know now that passion doesn’t disappear simply because we take our time. Quite the opposite.

You take a shower while I brush my teeth. I spent most of today in an air-conditioned room but the dusty arena has left you worse for wear. I return to the bedroom, wait for you to be done while watching the gondolas pass under our overhanging windows. They’re few and far between. It’s getting late.

I don’t turn around when you come out of the bathroom. I hold my breath, force my muscles to relax. You turn off the light. My heart beats faster. You don’t want anyone to see us from the outside. You step closer. Maybe it’s an illusion but I can feel your body heat. You stop right behind me.

‘Ignis.’

I stare straight ahead into the night. I’ll never get used to the weight and promise you manage to infuse in that one word.

‘Yes?’

You don’t answer right away. Your arms come around me, your hands unfastening the buttons of my shirt. You punctuate each one with a word murmured in my ear.

‘I’m…’

Pop.

‘… going…’

Pop.

‘… to…’

Pop.

‘… make…’

Pop.

‘… love…’

Pop

‘… to you.’

I shiver. Your breath is warm. You haven’t touched me yet and damn it all, I’m so hard it hurts.

‘Please…’ is all I can muster in response.

The first night, we arrived late. After the long journey, we fell asleep with nothing more than a chaste kiss. Yesterday, you pulled me in your arms, hid your face in my shoulder and told me you’d be good in deference for the full day of lectures I had ahead of me, but that I’d better make it up to you later. I promised. It was far from an unpleasant prospect.

Your hand slides under my open shirt looking for skin. You groan when you find my vest instead.

‘Why do you always have so many layers on?’

I laugh.

‘Apparently, I like when you undress me and I try to make it last.’

‘Smartass.’

You make quick work of both pieces of clothing. I turn around in your arms to kiss you. I wait until you’re focused on it, until one of your hand cups my jaw and the other is gripping my hair. Only then do I reach for the towel at your waist and take it off. You bite me gently in retaliation. I guide you backwards, push you down onto the bed, climb over you.

You’re spread out underneath me, gloriously naked. The soft fabric of my dress pants against your cock makes your eyes flutter. I take off my belt and I see your eyes go wide. I don’t have to say anything; you shuffle up and grab the headboard. You’re so willing, it takes my breath away. But I also see the hunger in your gaze. I know this is only the beginning.

I loop the leather around your wrists. It’s well worn, padded. I keep it fairly loose. You don’t want to escape and I know you won’t let go of your grip on the headboard.

‘Comfortable?’

You hum an affirmative. I lean in to kiss you, soft and chaste before getting off the bed. Your brow furrows immediately.

‘Iggy?’

‘Yes, dear?’

‘Come back here.’

‘Not yet. I’m going to have a shower too. You can wait for me, can’t you?’

You take a sharp breath when you realise the position you got yourself into. But it’s too late now. You could free yourself easily if you wanted, but I know the thought won’t even cross your mind.

‘Iggy. Love, please.’

‘I do love hearing you beg. Do it more.’

‘You just wait. I’ll make you pay for this.’

‘That’s not begging, darling.’

I shed the rest of my clothing, push the door of the bathroom open but I don’t go in. Not yet. I have some more teasing to do. I lean against the door jamb, let my eyes drift over your sculpted form. I never get tired of watching you. And of you watching me. Your gaze sweeps over me, lingering over the arousal I’m not trying to hide.

‘Blaze, please.’

I love when you use that name.

‘That’s better.’

‘Come on.’

‘Shower first.’

I go in the bathroom but leave the door open. I start the water.

‘Iggy, I swear on Titan’s dick if you don’t get your ass back in here in the next thirty seconds, we’re not going to be leaving this room tomorrow.’

I wait a few seconds before calling out.

‘Promise?’

You grumble something under your breath that I’m probably better off not understanding. I call again.

‘Maybe just for dinner?’

You sigh.

‘Okay, fine. Just for dinner. Now have your damn shower and come back here.’

‘Yes, love.’

It’s been the plan all along.

 

~ ~ ~

 

I know you said you were not fishing for that kind of story, but I couldn’t quite stop my thoughts from drifting into unsafe territory. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

It’s your turn now, tell me about that luxurious place, what it’ll be like, and what we’ll do there… Your words were enticing, I want to know more. Dazzle me, darling.

I love you.

Blaze

 


	230. Chapter 230

> Subject: **Happiness with you is the future I’m betting on**
> 
> Thu, Nov 26 at 7:12 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Blaze, you gorgeous and utterly miraculous creature, how can you be real? Sometimes I think I've dreamed you. I read your story and I ached to take you in my arms. You're a magician with words, do you know that? I know you do. Always tangling me, helplessly and willingly, in your spell. I loved your gift. It was exactly what I needed. We've been under such strain lately, you and I. It was a relief and a joy to slip into the world of your story, if only for a brief while. I hope someday we get to explore Altissia together.

And you got me thinking too. If the conflict subsides, if we know peace again, could we dare to imagine the borders might open, that we might travel freely through Eos? Reading Retta’s memoirs has me longing to see those places that are only marks on a map now. I'm remembering that book of Tenebraean poetry I sent so many letters ago, and how sweetly you came into my life like a poem. How you would shine there.

 

***

 

With the resumption of trade between Lucis and Tenebrae, tourism has flourished again between our countries. The king has no objection when we suggest a week there to no purpose but recreation. We spend a few days in the capital city, attending readings and lingering late over candlelit dinners, waking to stroll the streets with our hands full of coffee and pastries, taking in art exhibitions, but the paparazzi are equally as pervasive as they were in Altissia, and the reestablished gentry are just as eager to command our free time. And I'm jealous of our hours together. I adore how you sparkle in conversation. It thrills me to see you in a circle of aristocrats, all hanging on your words, and know that they will never enjoy the pleasure of the way you speak when you're alone with me. You're a brilliantly faceted jewel and only I am allowed to bring you back to bed at the end of the night.

But we both grow bored with the endless claims on our time, and we're supposed to be on vacation. Noct insisted. He knew we would make this into a diplomatic trip, and we promised him we’d get away from the cameras and clinging handshakes as soon as we could.

It turns out that the Caelums have an old hunting lodge up in the mountains that border Niflheim, rarely used even before the war, now slowly being brought back into repair. Noct urged us to take advantage of the privacy, and I couldn't help but be tempted. It snows so rarely in Insomnia, and I was imagining you in furs and scarves, the tip of your nose pink, and tumbling you into a snowbank. So I said yes, and fortunately you were just as charmed by the idea as I was.

The lodge, when we open it up, is fusty and cold, but not as ill-equipped as I'd feared. It's short work to build a roaring fire. The cupboards are stocked with enough non-perishables to last us through weeks of blizzard. Now at this point in the story you're probably thinking I've gone back on my word. I said I would describe you dazzling in a setting of absolute luxury, and here I've brought you to some dark old cabin in the depths of the forest! But for us, the most decadent and delicious luxury will always be uninterrupted hours alone. And here I've got you sprawled on the softest of blankets in front of the fire, sipping elegantly from a glass of the finest Veldorian wine, with all your wet clothes discarded carelessly to one side. I adore your carelessness. It’s so rare as to be precious. When you're careless, I know you're being selfish. And there's nothing I enjoy more than you being selfish, because that means you're going let me ravish you in front of that blazing fire. You gorgeous creature. You are my weakness and my heart.

We're tumbled against each other, limbs tangled, your skin as soft as butter under my calloused fingers and just as melting. Your head thrown back to expose the long line of your neck. You’ve set your spectacles aside on the low table where your wineglass is resting. And, teasingly, I grab your cashmere scarf from the pile of hastily abandoned clothes and drape it over your eyes. I haven't forgotten that letter you once wrote. I'm amazed and gratified to see how quickly your body reacts.

“Gladio…” is all you say, a drawn-out whisper I'll never tire of hearing.

I don't answer, but press my cheek to your ribs, where I know you're most sensitive, and run my face down your body, my beard lightly scratching as I go. You shiver under my caress. I sit up and look at you.

“Can you see anything through that scarf?”

“No.” There's a slight tremor in your voice, so imperceptible that probably only I would recognize it. I can't help it, I love hearing you on the edge of control and knowing I've brought you there. Wickedly, I reach to dip my fingers in your wineglass and scatter the droplets over your stomach. You flinch and gasp. “Gladio… you're a tease.”

And I am. I do. I love teasing you. You're so damned responsive, it's well-nigh irresistible. Each new sensation makes you squirm in new and intriguing ways. And yet, even as I have you arching and pleading for more, you never reach up to brush that scarf aside. That's the joy of what we have together. You want this just as much as I do. And love, my love, that's why we never get bored.

Missing you always, counting the years,

Your Behemoth

 


	231. Chapter 231

 

 

Today at 7:52 PM

[CROWE]: Where the fuck are you swordboy

[CROWE]: I'm been saving your barstool since 7pm and the denizens of this fine establishment are getting restless

[CROWE]: It was worth it though to see that guy run off screaming after I curled a lick of flame in his direction haha

[CROWE]: WHERE ARE YOU

[GLADIO]: Oh shit

[GLADIO]: Crowe I'm so sorry

[GLADIO]: I forgot we said tonight

[GLADIO]: I won't be able to make it

[CROWE]: What the hell is wrong with you? This is the second time you've stood me up

[CROWE]: I'm starting to get pissed off

[CROWE]: You better have a damn good explanation

[CROWE]: Is it Blaze? You haven't mentioned him in a while. Still seeing him?

[GLADIO]: Yeah. I don't know. It's complicated. We sort of broke up I guess

[CROWE]: Oh honey I'm sorry

[CROWE]: Are you just moping at home?

[CROWE]: Get your ass down here and buy me a drink

[GLADIO]: I'll make it up to you. Same time next week?

[CROWE]: Nope. We need to talk

[CROWE]: I heard you went camping with Scientia

[CROWE]: How'd that go?

[GLADIO]: Fine

[CROWE]: Uh huh. Just fine?

[CROWE]: Is he as stuffy as he seems?

[GLADIO]: He's OK

[CROWE]: Did you fuck him or vice versa?

[GLADIO]: Crowe don’t be disgusting

[CROWE]: See, I'm curious, Gladio. Because I go camping myself. A LOT

[CROWE]: And Dawnigh is not the place I'd choose for a survival demonstration

[CROWE]: Especially not if I wanted to impress a hardass like Ignis Scientia

[CROWE]: You know why I'd choose Dawnigh?

[CROWE]: If I wanted to take a pretty girl camping and make out with her under a bunch of waterfalls

[GLADIO]: You don't seriously think I was making out with Ignis Scientia last week

[CROWE]: I do, Gladio. I really do. You're a terrible liar. And you know what else?

[GLADIO]: Oh go on I'm just dying to hear this

[CROWE]: I think he's Blaze

[CROWE]: Gladio?

[CROWE]: Hey?

[CROWE]: Sorry

[CROWE]: I won't tell anyone

[CROWE]: What's wrong?

[CROWE]: I'm still here. Stop sulking and buy me a drink

[GLADIO]: Oh, fuck it, I could use a beer after the week I've had

[GLADIO]: Keep that barstool warm, I'll be there in fifteen

 


	232. Chapter 232

 

> Subject: **Don’t read this in public (although maybe do… it’d be a sweet revenge)**
> 
> Thu, Nov 26 at 11:49 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I was still at work when I received your letter and I opened it when I should have known better. I ended up staying an extra half hour to be able to get home with my dignity intact. Thanks Shiva for tax law compendia or I’d probably still be stuck in my office.

Your words have always resonated with me, but that last letter of yours… The things it did to me. I have no words, Gladio. I regret to say I left my imperilled dignity in my shoes as I got home. I didn’t need to read that email again, your words were engraved in my thoughts. I couldn’t wait… I dropped in the closest armchair, unbuttoned my pants and closed my eyes. Fuck, love, I really hope the neighbours didn’t hear me when I cried out your name, but I was so far gone I can’t be sure.

I’m warning you now if we’re ever lucky enough to enact that lovely fantasy, I will probably embarrass myself pretty quickly. Be kind and do not mock me for it. I do not understand why this affects me so… I know why I want it - we talked about it before… but after our time together, I can imagine it much more vividly and I was not prepared for how it overwhelmed me.

You’ve ruined my entire evening, I can’t get that scarf out of my head. Not that I’m complaining… well, I guess I am because it would be much more entertaining if you’d ruined it in person and apparently being that turned on makes me wilful. But I take what I can get. I love you, darling, and I’ll keep telling you until you get tired of hearing it. I love you. And not just because I’ve had a rather pleasurable time over the past couple of hours, although it certainly did nothing to lessen my feelings for you.

I’m not used to losing control like this. What have you done to me? How can one small letter take over my mind? Desires, arousal, yes, I know those… but I take care of them and they subside. This… I feel like this won’t go away until you drop that scarf over my eyes and I freeze waiting for your touch… your fingers… your tongue…

I’ve been lying on my bed imagining it all. Want me to tell you about it? I’ve been thinking about nothing else for hours, you might as well suffer some of it with me. While I can relieve some tension - and I’m sure you will too - I can feel the frustration building in my gut after each attempt at soothing my nerves, because as good as it feels, it’s not right. It’s not what I want. It’s not you. You’re all I want and all that can satisfy me.

I close my eyes and I can imagine it all perfectly. What it’ll feel like. I imagine the cold droplets of wine on my stomach, some staying there, one or two rolling down alongside my flank. And you pause, you wait… maybe even blow softly on my skin, your breath - so warm - making the wine feel so cold. Until you lean in, pick the droplets up with your tongue. I’m still as marble under you. I want to feel you, every slight contact, I want nothing to exist but your touch on me. It’s so intense I can feel goosebumps pearling on my arms.

Of course you notice.

‘Cold?’ You ask, your voice so fond it makes me shiver.

‘It’s not the cold. It’s you.’

You hum at that, a low contented purr. You know very well how vulnerable I am to your attentions, but you like nothing more than hearing me admit to it.

You take your time then. I smooth the blanket under my hands, keeping them relaxed, patient. Tension rushes through my nerves. It’s everywhere, simmering, waiting. I don’t know what you’ll do next. The emptiness I see is filled with a warm glow. The scarf can’t block out all light, but it does keep you hidden. When you pause - hanging over me, I try to guess where you are. I try to sense your bulk and your heat, but you’re too good at this. Even if I know you’re still there, still with me, I can’t guess what you’re going to do. A fingernail brushing against my hip, a kiss on my shoulder, the calluses of a firm palm dragging up my thigh. I tense every time, always caught off guard, but managing to hardly move. I can’t control my breathing though and it speeds up at each touch. I know you can see it. You wait until I slow it down to touch me again.

The way you caress me, kiss me… I am an incomplete art piece you’re slowly sculpting to fulfil your desire, your idea of what love would look like. It always surprises me how much you seem to enjoy it, staring at me, haphazardly touching me.

And once in a while, you get particularly creative; as when you press the cold surface of your wineglass against my neck before taking a sip. I flinch at the contact, even let out an undignified yelp. You laugh, but it’s soft and loving, too happy for me to resent it. Your fingers stroke my cheek, I know you’re making sure the scarf hasn’t moved.

You’ve barely done anything to me; yet, I’m hard enough to hurt and usually I would start protesting the lack of attention. But it’s only one part of me, one of many awaiting, hoping for your fancy. I whimper when you brush your knuckles over my cock a couple of times, the stimulation unexpected and almost unbearable. But I don’t need that to arch into you, to beg for more than a fleeting contact. I crave anything you want to give me, no matter how slight, no matter where.

It’s slow but you start indulging me, touches becoming closer together, until you eventually put your hands and your lips on me at the same time. Considering how feverish and aroused I am, that simple generosity is bliss. I sigh in the kiss, lick at your tongue gently in a silent thank you.

‘Nice and slow, love. We’ll get there,’ you whisper against my lips before pulling away. The sound that escapes me in protest is not one I would ever allow myself to make, but I have little control over what’s happening. You’re so confident, so patient. Lost as I am in warm darkness, your self-control is maddening. I don’t know what I want. But I know this isn’t enough.

‘More,’ I try.

‘More, love?’

‘Please.’

‘Okay.’ Your fingers stroke the inside of my thigh. ‘I’ll give you more. I’m going to make you come.’

Another one of those sounds I will forever deny making. You lean in, replace your fingers by your mouth, bite into the flesh of my leg, enough to burn, not enough to hurt. It only lasts an instant. You kiss the skin then, make me shudder. It’s too much, too fast. And yet, I know it’s only the beginning.

‘I’m going to make you come,’ you repeat. ‘And afterwards, when you’re all nice and relaxed, I’m going to open you up slowly. I’m going to take my time until you’re ready, ready for me to slip inside like I belong there, ready for you to enjoy it again.’

It takes a moment for my brain to make sense of the words. It’s all part of this fantasy after all, getting me to stop thinking. My mind is sluggish, but while I would usually resent it, with you it only feels like well-deserved peace.

‘You do,’ I say.

‘What?’

‘You belong there.’

I don’t care how cheesy it sounds. It’s true. You’re not laughing.

‘Of course, love. And you’re going to keep that scarf on for me, aren’t you?’

My breath catches in my throat. This is intense for both of us - but for me most of all, we don’t often indulge in that particular fantasy. It needs time and utmost privacy. But even when we do, it’s often short-lived, only a part of our foreplay. I understand what you’re asking for… it’s permission. What you’re proposing, keeping me blinded for so long, makes me shudder. It’s somewhat frightening. Or it would be, if you weren’t there, taking care of me.

‘The whole time?’

‘Only if you want to.’

‘Please.’

‘You can change your mind.’

‘I know. Get on with it.’

You laugh at that. But you also know that such a snarky retort means I’m not quite as lost in you as I was a moment ago. And you can’t have that.

I let you do as you please as you arrange me on the blanket, pull a cushion from a nearby armchair to put under my hips, spread my legs so you can kneel between them. Once you’re satisfied, got me so fully exposed under you, you don’t act on it. Instead you fall back to that slow, sedated pace you’d first set. My nerves are raw and I can’t quite swallow a whimper that sounds like a sob when I realise what you’re doing. You shush me, kiss me softly once, but you carry on.

I could get you to stop, I could just lift my hand and remove the scarf. You’d take it from me, set it aside and smile, without a hint of judgement or disappointment, and we’d fall back into more familiar and complicit territory. But I don’t want to. Not now. Not tonight. Giving myself to you so completely makes me feel good, serene… an odd contrast to my nerves so desperate for your attention. But I need this. I need my mind to give my body space at times.

I stop resisting, I relax, fall back into the warm darkness. It’s pulsating to the rhythm of a disjointed pleasure song you create by playing me like some complex instrument you’ve long mastered.

I don’t expect it. Of course, I don’t. Suddenly, there’s something brushing against my cock. Light. Soft. I don’t understand at the time. Later, I’ll realise what you’d done. You picked up one of the suede gloves I had removed earlier, dangled them in your grip to caress me with nothing but one fingertip.

But for now, there’s nothing to understand. Nothing but a delicious contact made too intense by surprise and persistent arousal. I cry out, arch up against you, spill warm fluid over my stomach. You only put your hand on me at the very end, stroking me a few times, helping me feel that tipping point into satiety when stimulation becomes too much and unwanted. You know me so well, it’s perfect. Never too much or not enough. But when you lean in and dip your tongue into the cum on my stomach as you did with the wine earlier, I can’t stay still. One of my hands come to rest on your hair, fingers threading through the locks, so soft it brings pleasure of its own. I feel weak and spent. Without the help of my sight, my touch is unsteady, imprecise. You can feel it. You kiss my palm, put my hand back down by my side.

‘Just lie back, love. Enjoy.’

Lost in a post-orgasmic haze and without the simulation of sight, it’s an easy enough order to follow. The soft brush of a warm cloth over my skin barely registers. I frown when my skin starts to cool afterwards but I don’t move.

You don’t waste time. For all you promised to wait for me to recover, there’s a throb of anticipation in your touch now. You’ve been so selfless and patient. As much as I know you enjoy playing with me, so far it has failed to provide you with well-deserved physical relief.

You’re always so careful. Maybe if I could bring myself to think, it’d seem obscene, the sound of lubricant being poured, the sighs I let out as you work your way in. Again you show that knowledge we have of each other, the kind of perfect understanding that can only come after long years of intimacy. You know exactly how much I can take so soon after coming, what touch I enjoy, what kind of stimulation will bring me back to an aroused state the fastest. Despite the necessity of the exercise, it doesn’t feel like a mean to an end. It’s yet again another way to enjoy each other, to feel connected, intimate in a way that can’t be put in words.

But after a while, it ceases to be enough. Your breath has gotten shorter, more controlled. I can’t miss it, nor the way your fingers curl teasingly, impatiently. I whimper in answer. My body’s making valiant efforts to reach peak arousal again. I’m not quite there yet but it won’t take long now. I’m empty and aching.

‘Please.’ I can’t keep my voice steady anymore, not with how much I want you. I don’t even try. I need you to hear it. You don’t hesitate.

‘You got it, love.’

Your hands gently lift my head so you can tie the scarf around it. It’s a comfortable fit but necessary to make sure it doesn’t get removed by what’s coming. The thought of it makes my heart skip a beat. You grip my waist, holding me in place.

I close my eyes under the scarf as you guide yourself inside. Finally. All I feel is love and relief.

 

~ ~ ~

 

See, what you did to me, darling? And trust me writing it all down to share it with you hasn’t helped one bit…

I love you. I wish you were here.

Blaze

 


	233. Chapter 233

 

 

(Above is a photograph of a note pushed under a door. It reads, "Harley & I broke up yesterday. It’d been coming for a while but it still hurts like a sonovabitch. I need distraction and company, but I have zero energy to go out. So sorry, sunshine, you’re it. I’ll come over at 9 and bring some good stuff with me. Your workaholic ass better be home. S")

 


	234. Chapter 234

> Subject: **The very sweetest**
> 
> Fri, Nov 27 at 10:33 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Oh, I deserved that. I was teasing you doubly, first within the confines of the story I sent and second in real life, hoping I'd have exactly that effect on you. And you, my beautiful strategist, returned my advance and delivered the coup de grace. I opened your email on my lunch break, despite your warning, and—okay, this is really embarrassing, I've never done this before at work, but I had to lock the door and take care of myself or I wouldn't have been able to make it to my 1pm session. Does that please you? I bet it does. I can imagine you smirking. Picture me with my legs kicked out in front of me in my office chair, head thrown back, sweat beading at my temples, both hands on myself and thinking of you, you, you, nothing but you, always you. When I came it was sweet relief, and it barely took the edge off.

But I have something to confess, and perhaps after you hear it you won't be so eager to reward my affections.

You remember that girl I told you about, who was kind enough to give me my first kiss? Remember how I said you’d meet her one day? Well, I think you might already know her; or at least know of her. She has quite a rising reputation. Crowe Altius, of the Glaives.

She's been asking for a while now what's keeping me so distracted. And I told her about you, Blaze, long before we planned our meeting at the Hunters of Ifrit show. But after that meeting I never told her who you were, I swear it.

Crowe is deadly sharp. She figured it out after someone mentioned our camping trip. (Apparently I should have chosen a more challenging location for my survival demonstration. According to Crowe, Dawnigh is “waterfall makeout central.”) We had a few beers together last night and I impressed on her how absolutely vital it is that she keep our secret safe. I trust her. But you don't know her and I can't expect you to trust her. I wouldn't if I were in your place. Fuck, Iggy, I've never had a secret like this; I never knew how difficult it is to live a double life. How do our spies manage it? I'd go out of my head. I'm a terrible liar. I've never been required to be anything but honest. It's a weakness I never knew I had.

But that weakness has left you vulnerable yet again. How can I call myself a Shield when I keep failing to protect your privacy?

So once more I find myself asking for your forgiveness. Someday it'll be like our fantasies, won't it? Someday we won't have to lie anymore? When that day comes, I swear I'll never beg the gods for anything else again. It's all I want now. The pride of openly telling everyone you're mine—now and forever.

I love you. More than I can say. I wish I could press your wrist to my lips and say it in person.

Behemoth

 


	235. Chapter 235

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've asked some wonderful artists to help us tell this part of the story and they've come through so amazingly for us. We can't thank them enough. <3 I hope you'll all go give them the love they deserve as well. ^_______^
> 
> This chapter's piece is by [Asoeiki](https://asoeiki.tumblr.com/) (Tikali in the comments). Thank you so much. <3


	236. Chapter 236

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've asked some wonderful artists to help us tell this part of the story and they've come through so amazingly for us. We can't thank them enough. <3 I hope you'll all go give them the love they deserve as well. ^_______^
> 
> This chapter's piece is by [Chiii](https://chipeppers.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much. <3


	237. Chapter 237

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've asked some wonderful artists to help us tell this part of the story and they've come through so amazingly for us. We can't thank them enough. <3 I hope you'll all go give them the love they deserve as well. ^_______^
> 
> This chapter's pieces are by [Lishtar](http://twitter.com/dyslexiac) (@Dyslexiac on Twitter). Thank you so much. <3


	238. Chapter 238

 

> Subject: **Please put me out of my misery…**
> 
> Sat, Nov 28 at 1:48 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

It took me twenty minutes to read your email because my eyes hurt and screens are so bright…. Why is everything so empty?

I guess I should explain. If only I knew where to start… I do like thinking about you having to lock yourself up in your office. I just wish I could have seen it with my own eyes. I’ve been dreaming of it, you know? Of the look you get on your face when you come. I want to see it again. I’m that close to telling you to get a burner phone so you can send me pictures, but I’m not exactly in my right mind, so you probably shouldn’t do it.

What else? Oh yes, your friend. Listen, darling, if you trust her, that’s good enough for me. I love you. And I trust you. I never trust anyone. Not really. It always feels dangerous, like trust is a weakness. But not with you. I trust you. Have I told you this before? I think I have. If I haven’t, I’m sorry. But that’s my heart beating there in your hands, so warm and delicate and fluttering. And it’s all yours. All of it. I haven’t kept anything.

And I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry to ask so much of you. You’re so honest and pure, wearing your heart on your sleeve always. And I’ve made you hide it. I’ve made you lie. You berate yourself for not managing to protect me, but I don’t deserve your protection. I’ve done nothing but corrupting your integrity and endangering the nobility of your soul. I can only try to love you more and more to make up for it. But I know it’s not enough. I know it’s selfish of me to ask such hurtful things of you. My head is so muddled right now, I can’t find words to adequately express how sorry I am. I just want to love you, but it seems I can’t stop myself from hurting you in the process, I’m an unsightly blemish on your scintillating armour. And I might have done even worse last night.

I said I would explain… I shall try. You remember my neighbour? The meddlesome lady?

Well, she broke up with her girlfriend and decided she wanted company so she forced her way into my flat last night. But don’t you worry, I told her that since they’d already broken up she wasn’t allowed to kiss me. Wait… I’m telling it wrong. That was later.

First, she came over and brought some beer and wine, but she said I had to cook, because apparently ‘I shouldn’t allow my talents to go to waste like that.’ And then she said ‘speaking of talent, have you used that tongue of yours recently?’ and I choked on my glass of wine and let me tell you, it was not pretty. I’m glad you weren’t there to see it.

Anyway, I didn’t answer, kept myself busy making quiche and salad. I would have planned for something fancier if she’d told me beforehand but it was her fault for dropping on me unannounced.

She wouldn’t let it go so I told her ‘not currently,’ which unfortunately for us, light of my heart, was not even a lie. She gave up then, told me about her break-up, about her work while we were eating.

At the end, she said ‘Ignis, I’m still sad.’ Pouty and all, like it was my fault. I think that’s when I told her she wasn’t allowed to kiss me. But it’s kind of a blur. She said I was a killjoy, I said I wasn’t but that she had no interest in me so what was the point, and then she said ‘prove it.’

Are you confused yet? I sure was. By that point, I wanted her to go home so I could sit in my armchair with a cup of tea and write to you. But she had no intention of going anywhere. She wanted to have fun, but she didn’t want to do it alone and she kept on playing the broken heart card, and I’m weak, love. I’m weak because I’ve nearly lost you so many times, and I know we’re hanging by an impossible thread of written words and fanciful promises we believe against all odds, and I couldn’t help but imagine how I’d feel if you were taken away from me completely. I could feel my heart starting to shatter and I couldn’t deny her. I said we could do whatever she wanted.

That’s when she took out the frog.

I know how it sounds, but hear me out. Sania’s a biology professor. She’s always away on research trips and she keeps lots of weird stuff in her flat. It’s all really interesting. So I was mildly surprised when she pulled a small terrarium from her bag but not that much. I was mostly mad at her for leaving it in the bag so long but she said it’s a nocturnal frog and it likes the dark and be a sweetheart and turn off the lights.

So I did. Just left the standard lamp on low in the sitting room. The frog was watching us with googly eyes, in beautiful purple and sky blue. It would have fitted easily in my palm. Sania told me it was a rare sea frog from Accordo, that they were endangered and she was breeding them. You know the yearly Carnival in Altissia? Well, apparently historically they used the frogs to enhance the festive spirit. Because of that, they’re called _happy frogs_ over there.

I was making tea at that point, politely listening. It was interesting enough. I brought the tea over, set it on the coffee table. She had strips of what looked like rice paper in her purse and she took a couple of squares of it, barely a centimetre across and applied them to the back of the frog.

‘It doesn’t hurt it,’ she said.

Then she dumped them in our cups. I wasn’t convinced by the whole thing, but I’d already agreed to do whatever she wanted and as tiring as she can sometimes be, I don’t believe she’d poison me. And trust me, if she wanted she could. The stuff she has access to could fill many horror novels.

Anyway, I didn’t resist. I drank the tea. I thought that surely it couldn’t be that potent and I just had to keep myself in check and it’d be fine. You probably can see where this is going.

Oh darling… I’m an idiot. I should have known better. I’m pretty sure she did it on purpose too because she wanted to get information out of me.

To start with, I barely noticed anything different. I’m always on guard, I always catalog details around me, I always stay aware of everything my sense tell me. It’s strategy and survival, it’s engrained in me.

But I couldn’t keep up. There was so much of… everything. I could see the grain of the wallpaper and the dust specks floating across the light beam of the standard lamp. I could smell the peaches I have on my kitchen counter, the ones that are not even ripe yet. I could hear the soap opera the upstairs neighbour likes to watch in the evening, every word, so far away yet so clear.

Sania was smiling. ‘Now, you’re feeling it,’ she said.

It felt amazing. It was so much all at once. So alive. So much to experience… I started to laugh. I was happy. I know I thought it was a shame you weren’t here with me. And Sania asked me what I was thinking about and I told her. I told her… just like that. Because it didn’t seem to matter, it didn’t seem that anything could break the bright spell that had been cast over my world. The only shadow was your absence and I was somehow vexed by it.

So I told her. And she asked ‘who’s he?’ and I told her everything. I wanted to. I wanted to tell her how much I loved you, because as I did the words sounded happy, and the feelings were like swathes of colour spreading across my mind, so pure and perfect.

I told her everything. But even when I started telling her about the bad bits, about why we couldn’t be together, it didn’t feel as bad as usual. Somehow I remembered how you’d promise one day it’d get better, and I just believed it as truth - because you said it - with absolute conviction.

Things got weird after that… I’m not sure I have words… we stayed on the sofa for a while just lounging there, giggling loudly at the things we said - most of which barely made any sense. I remember looking at the lamp and watching it lean towards me and smile. Don’t ask… I know how it sounds. But it seemed a reasonable assumption at the time. I smiled back.

In the end, Sania went home and I stood in the kitchen for I don’t know how long because the light coming from the windows was drawing pretty patterns on the fridge. I think. I’m not sure. I also made pyramids with my Ebony cans all over the kitchen counter. They’re probably still there, but I haven’t had the energy to get up and check yet. Then, I went to the bedroom, started taking my clothes off but it was too much effort, so I stopped half way. I dropped on my bed and I watched the ceiling. Something was happening there. It was… lapping at the walls like a square lake. I don’t know. It was soothing.

I think I didn’t move for hours. I must have been asleep at some point and dreaming, because you were there with me. Well, a version of you at least, it was somewhat odd… I don’t remember exactly. You were staring at me smiling and handsome and I was happy you were there; yet, part of me knew it was all an illusion. The result was a strange mix of longing and joy. I drifted into dreamless sleep at some point, finally. My last thought was that once we get to have sex regularly - still no doubts in my mind at that point - I absolutely need you to fuck me while we’re both tripping on happy frog juice because, darling, that has to be a once in a lifetime experience.

But now I’ve woken up again… and the world is trite and barren, all flat surfaces and plain colours. My head feels hollow. It’s not a migraine like a hangover. It’s a sense of loss, I guess… like a sensory overload suddenly taken away. My ears are ringing.

I’m not exactly sure when it happened but my glove drawer is opened and there are gloves strewn all over my room, on the bed, on the floor, even one fitted over the door handle.

I can hear Sania, watering plants on her balcony while singing. I hate her a little bit right now. Speaking of, watch yourself. She’s a meddlesome meddler who likes to meddle and I don’t know what she’s going to do. I made her promise not to get involved but I don’t know that she will keep her word. Probably had her fingers crossed behind her back or used some other childish loophole. Call me if she ever bothers you. She’s a handful but she will listen to me.

I’m going to go back to sleep. Hopefully, I’ll feel more like myself when I wake up.

But you should start running, darling, before she finds you. Just don’t go too far, I can’t be without you.

I’m sorry I messed up. I love you.

Blaze

 


	239. Chapter 239

> Subject: **Text me if you want company. I don't want to wake you if you're sleeping**
> 
> Sat, Nov 28 at 3:02 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hey, gorgeous, don't worry about me. You don't have to apologize. (It's kinda funny we're apologizing to each other for basically the same thing though, right? Are you drinking lots of water? Make sure you stay hydrated and eat something.)

Your neighbor sounds like quite a character, and her interrogation techniques are ethically questionable. I'll keep my distance. It's nice to hear you mention being happy so many times in one letter, though. That's rare. I'm glad you had an evening to relax. And to share your troubles with her, even if that means our secret keeps getting more diluted. It bothers me that I'm the only person you can talk to. As odd as she sounds, perhaps this Sania person would make a good confidant.

You deserve so much, Ignis. Yes, my protection. And happiness. I don't want you thinking you aren't enough. Do you know how lonely I was before I met you? I can always find someone to share a beer with on a Friday night, but no one ever wanted to know what I think about books, or took the time to patiently draw forth ideas I've always kept hidden. And never have I known someone who becomes more fascinating each time we speak. You keep me constantly intrigued, hanging on every word. You're enough; you're more than enough; you're all I desire. No more talk of corruption and blemishes. Be kind to yourself. For me? Please.

You sound so dreamy. Sweet love, I'll keep your heart safe. I hope you're sleeping peacefully, but if you need anything, I can be at your door in half an hour with pizza and a movie. I won't even insist on staying if you just want me to drop them off.

(You're romantic when you're tripping on frog venom, you know that? I'm sorry, you said you're miserable so I shouldn't be enjoying it. But. _Light of my heart._ That's lovely. You're lovely. I love you.)

Softest kisses,

Behemoth

P.S. I've never tried anything harder than whiskey but your proposal is very tempting. Maybe you can get me a frog for Returning Festival instead of the usual dumplings.

P.P.S. I bet your dumplings are really good though.

P.P.P.S. That wasn't meant to be a double entendre, but now that I've written it down it looks _filthy._

 


	240. Chapter 240

 

 

Today at 4:31 PM

[SANIA]: Hi there, treasure! I’m sure Iggy has told you I’d be on your case by now. You and I need to talk.

[GLADIO]: Uh

[GLADIO]: Who is this

[SANIA]: Already a disappointment. He said you were bright, you know. I’m Iggy’s godsend neighbour. Obviously.

[GLADIO]: Oh, right. The one who poisoned him with toxic frog venom. How is he feeling? Have you checked to make sure he didn't pass out in the shower? Might be a neighborly thing to do

[SANIA]: Look at you flexing those big bad muscles which I’m told you have a lot of. Honestly, he was gushing about your various attributes all evening. It was adorable. I might have video. And he’s fine. It’s not toxic and he’s not poisoned, he’s just coming down from being happy for a while. Which he very much needed, by the way. You’re welcome.

[GLADIO]: I hope for your sake you're joking about the video.

[SANIA]: Look, I get the whole knight in shining armour gig. I’m sure it’s a nice and comfortable persona and it makes everybody around you go weak at the knee and all. But let’s not beat around the bush. Iggy is miserable. What do you plan to do about it, big man?

[GLADIO]: I don't know how you got my number. I don't care if you wheedled it out of Ignis while he was zonked out on your crazy frog juice. What he told you last night was private and highly confidential. I don't intend to discuss it with someone I've never met. How's that nosy neighbor persona working out for you, by the way?

[SANIA]: Sunshine, I’ve known that boy for many more years than you have. Really known him. I found him that flat because he wanted to go all emancipated at fifteen and I wasn’t going to let him live in some dank Insomnia back alley. I helped him move in, I made him muffins when his eyes were puffy with tears after another all-nighter and he wouldn’t admit how close he was to breaking, I reminded him to eat over and over again, I locked him in his bedroom a couple of times so he would finally stop working and get some sleep. So do me a favour and shelf your outraged act. I have dibs on taking care of him. And the Astrals know how difficult he makes it, the selfless idiot. You want a piece of that cake, you have to work with me. And honestly, if you swallowed your pride for a second, you’d admit you need all the help you can get. Things don’t look all that great for the two of you as they stand.

[GLADIO]: Well, you got that right

[GLADIO]: But what under Bahamut’s blue skies do you expect me to do about it?

[GLADIO]: I can protect Iggy from a sword

[GLADIO]: I can't protect him from a rumor

[SANIA]: You’re right. You can’t. Well done for admitting to it, it can’t be that easy when you’re Mr Protector-In-Chief.

[SANIA]: I might have an idea - it’s all speculative at this point. I’ll do some research and then I’ll need to talk to you. In person. In the meantime, let’s keep you busy shall we? I need a good rebound. I love those pretty, muscly girls from the Glaives. You must know them all. Find me a date, make sure she’s smart. :P

[GLADIO]: I must have inhaled some frog juice myself

[GLADIO]: It sounded like you just asked me to barter one of my friends for a hypothetical protection for Iggy

[GLADIO]: What exactly are you proposing to do for him?

[SANIA]: Oh sweetie, you haven’t earned any frog juice yet. Trust me, you have no idea what you’re missing.

[SANIA]: And I told you I need to do some research. It’s no good getting you all hopeful and then have to disappoint. Anyway, I’m doing it for Iggy not for you. For some weird reason, that boy seems really fond of your ass and other associated body parts.

[SANIA]: And I was asking you for a favour. I’m good fun, once you get to know me. I’m sure your friends would be grateful. You can tell them I have a wicked tongue too and I know how to use it.

[GLADIO]: Wow ok TMI

[GLADIO]: I’ll ask around

[GLADIO]: Actually now that I think about it

[GLADIO]: I might know someone with a baffling weakness for obnoxiously brainy types

[GLADIO]: Get back to me when you’ve done some research and maybe I'll give you her number

[SANIA]: Haha… who’s bargaining with Iggy’s happiness now? Just kidding. I’m glad he seems to matter to you as much as you obviously matter to him. Now go tell all that TMI stuff to your friend. There’s a lot more where it came from.

[GLADIO]: I guess Iggy could do worse for a friend next door. Please knock on his door and make sure he hasn't fallen asleep in the bath.

[SANIA]: You got it, lover boy.

[SANIA]: Want pictures? :P

[GLADIO]: NO

[GLADIO]: And delete that video if it actually exists

[GLADIO]: Because Iggy will kill you himself if he finds out. Goodbye

[SANIA]: Look, I know you’re going to want to run to Ignis and tell him all about this little conversation. I can’t stop you, so do it if you must. But I think it might be better if you didn’t. For now. He’s not doing as well as he pretends to, and I’d rather he doesn’t start hoping for a happy resolution only to see his hopes crushed again if I come up empty. It’s a really long shot. I don’t think he’d handle the disappointment well. If I find something then we can decide what the best course of action is and we can always decide to tell him then.

 


	241. Chapter 241

 

 

Today at 7:28 PM

[SANIA]: Me again.

[IGNIS]: Oh come on, you were here five minutes ago.

[SANIA]: Half an hour. Have you been drinking?

[IGNIS]: Yes.

[SANIA]: Better be that water I left you. If I find an empty Ebony can when I come back in, we’re going to have words.

[IGNIS]: Caffeine helps against headaches.

[SANIA]: You don’t have a headache. Frogs don’t give you headaches. I told you that last time when you were asking what it was like, remember?

[IGNIS]: Empty brain syndrome then. I need food. Do you want dinner?

[SANIA]: Whaccha making?

[IGNIS]: Whatever I have frozen, you can choose whatever. The freezer is pretty much full. I always cook too much.  

[SANIA]: I’ll have a shower and I’ll come over. Food then bed for you.

[IGNIS]: I’ve been sleeping all afternoon.

[SANIA]: And you still don’t look like you’ve had enough.

[IGNIS]: Fine.

[SANIA]: Also, I guess that friend of yours is okay.

[IGNIS]: Who?

[SANIA]: That boy with all the muscles and poetry.

[IGNIS]: Sania, no. What have you done?

[SANIA]: Just offered to send him a video of you high. He didn’t want it.

[IGNIS]: Of course, he didn’t. I told you, he’s a good man.

[SANIA]: Oh listen to your baby heart going all lovey-dovey.

[IGNIS]: Don’t. What did he say?

[SANIA]: Just to take care of you. I’m giving him a pass. For now.

[IGNIS]: Damn meddling neighbour… 

[SANIA]: You know it!

 


	242. Chapter 242

> Subject: **You’re too kind.**
> 
> Sun, Nov 29 at 8:31 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Thank you for not mercilessly mocking me for my unsightly behaviour. I can’t read that last letter I sent you without wanting to go dig a hole somewhere in the middle of the Leide desert and never come out again. If you’d made fun of me, I might have been driving out there right now. But of course, you didn't. Let me tell you again now that I’ve come down to whatever high I was still riding yesterday. I love you, darling. And I trust you. And I’ll try not to mention all those things you don’t want to hear anymore. Thank you for being so caring and selfless always. I still wish I wouldn’t have to ask you to lie. You shouldn’t have to do anything to demean yourself like that, however good the reason for it is.

And yet, I hope you won’t think less of me for saying this but I’m glad I agreed to Sania’s proposal. It was a lovely respite - albeit one that shouldn’t be relied on too often. She’s been checking on me throughout too. So yes, darling, I’ve been kept well hydrated. I finally got my keys back this morning when she looked at me and was like ‘awww, fun over.’ She’s a meddler and annoyingly loud, but her heart is in the right place. Trying to deflect some of the guilt I felt for giving us away onto her was unfair of me, not that I fully realised what I was doing at the time.

I think I mentioned it before, but her mum was the rector of the University when I was a young teenager. When I got emancipated, she asked Sania to look after me. I guess she was worried I wouldn't cope, being so young and having always lived in communal housing. Sania never does anything half way, so she's been on my case ever since, no matter how much I tell her she doesn't have to be so concerned anymore. I like her as much as I find her exhausting.

And I hope you didn’t get the wrong idea from that mopey and confused letter of mine yesterday. Sania would have gone home with her frog if I’d told her to, you know. And she did tell me it could get intense. More than once. I’d asked about the frogs before. Hard not to be intrigued with her as a neighbour. But she’d always told me I had to wait, that she’d let me try one of them a day I’d really need it. So when she offered, I guess I wanted it; it was in part curiosity, in part desire to be spontaneous and unreasonable for a while. A bit like when I told you we should go camping. There’s a thrill to those actions I’m not used to experience. It’s both scary and pleasant. And I know I shouldn’t get used to feeling it too often, but I’d lie if I didn’t admit to liking it.

I wish I could have taken you up on that pizza and movie. How I want to tell you to just come over… but nothing has changed and we better keep our distances. If you came, I don’t know if I could ever let you go again. I might have to chain you to my bed. Just imagine, you suddenly disappearing like that; there’d be search parties and rumours that Nifhleim has captured Noct’s Shield and I would look grave and help with theories on what might have happened, how they might have pulled it off. Then I’d go home and make love to you, over and over again.

We’d probably enjoy it - for a while at least until other considerations start rearing their head; but you know they’d panic and lock Noct away like some precious gem in the palace vault to protect him. We can’t let that happen. It would do nothing to cure his moody ways. Getting him to come out of his bedroom is hard enough as it is; the last thing I need is to give him a valid excuse to avoid the world and his responsibilities.

I must cut this short. I’ve been sleeping all day yesterday, only got up an hour ago and managed little else but a coffee and a shower so far. I do feel more rested than I have in a while - probably since I woke up with you on that last day of our camping trip. Remember how we watch the sky grow increasingly incandescent over the waterfall? How I rolled over you and we kissed so many times, so softly at first, and then deeper, more intensely, so we could avoid paying attention to the daylight spreading over the landscape, brighter and brighter, inexorably counting down the time we had left together. I can still feel your hands on me you know, your palms caressing the length of my back, down and up again, until it was too much, until you held me in place, firmly against you and I let out that whine that mortified me. And you laughed, not mocking, just happy, told me how much you loved the sounds I made. It’s silly - I know I have no right to say this - but I love the sounds you made too, I dislike the idea that anyone else has heard them, heard the moans you let out when you get so close to your orgasm you can taste it and your eyes flutter shut, that anyone else has seen you so unguarded.

If our wishes come true, my love, if we get to experience such intimacy again, I want you to tell me about things you’ve always wanted to do, but you’ve never been able to. Maybe it’s childish - don’t start mocking me now, but I want you to give me something that I’ll know we’ll be a first time for you too. I want to live that moment and know it’s only mine - ours - entirely.

Anyway, my work has suffered from that impromptu holiday I took yesterday, I better get back to it. I didn’t even call Noct yesterday. If I don’t turn up on his doorstep before lunch, he’ll probably send the Guard looking for me.

I love you,

Blaze

P.S. I apologise for the whole video scam. Sania is embarrassing. I told her to leave you alone.

P.P.S. I will get you a frog and make dumplings. Even if you’re a perverted man with a _filthy_ mouth.

 


	243. Chapter 243

> Subject: **Nah, I just love you. A lot.**
> 
> Sun, Nov 29 at 9:42 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Sweet Blaze,

Don't be embarrassed. I found your froggy introspection quite charming. So there never was a video? She was _testing_ me? That's... devious. Underhanded. I'm grudgingly impressed. And I shouldn't have suggested a visit—I felt bad about it as soon as I sent it. I know it causes you pain to insist on our separation. I wish we'd gotten in more than just a couple of sparring sessions before we had to draw that line, though. You were a good match for me. Professionally, I mean, I'm not trying to flirt. It's rare that I find myself a real challenge. Remember when I told you that back in the beginning, when I said something about a game and we had our first real argument? I never knew what a challenge you would turn out to be. I'm lucky I met you. I don't tell you that enough.

I rather like the idea of being chained to your bed. You knew that when you wrote it, didn't you? I can imagine that tiny curl of a smile, the amusement you just barely reveal to the world when inside you're laughing too hard to speak. I’d enjoy being your captive if it meant I could grab your wrists as soon as you got too close and pull you down to me. I'd roll on top and teach you how dangerous it is to tame an Amicitia. I’d fuck you until you couldn't hold back that delicious, mortifying whine. Would you like that, Ignis? I would.

As for things I've never done, I can't imagine anything more pleasant than trying them with you. Mock that suggestion? Don't be silly, Iggy. I have the feeling you know already, anyway. You’re too smart for that to be a shot in the dark. Maybe I'll take you to dinner someday and we’ll play Chivany and the Count. Although—I wasn't entirely honest when I told you so long ago that was my favorite scene (but we didn't know each other very well then, remember!).

My favorite scene is the one that comes after.

Glad you're feeling better,

Your Behemoth

P.S. I thought you meant _frog dumplings_ the first time I read this. Great Garuda above, that's disgusting. I don't know what's wrong with me, my head’s been muzzy all day. Turning in early. I'll dream of you. I always do.

P.P.S. Tomorrow it's been three months since you placed that ad.

 


	244. Chapter 244

> Subject: **Three months… I wish we could celebrate.**
> 
> Mon, Nov 30 at 10:48 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I apologise for the late reply. I’m sorry to say not all of Noct’s auxiliary teachers are as reliable as you are.

See, I do not believe the geography curriculum at Noct’s school to be adequate for a future king; it understandably lacks some key strategic insights about the current socioeconomic state of the world. Insights a regular student hardly needs but a future king must know. So I pulled him from that particular class and decided it would have to be taught to him in private sessions. Unfortunately, with the extra work I took for the Council last year, I didn’t have the hours to spare so I decided - against my better judgement - to delegate. It turns out, however, that the ‘specialist’ - I use this word loosely - that was recommended to me by the university has been teaching him that exact same programme despite repeated communications from me highlighting the points that had to be emphasised or added.

Anyway, I only realised yesterday when Noct was asking questions he should have known the answer to when reading a report I gave him. I then had to spend the afternoon interrogating him to figure out exactly what he’d been taught since it obviously didn’t match my lesson plans. As you can imagine, he got really fed up with the exercise - particularly on a Sunday - and got all moody and impatient.

I more or less had what I needed by that point, so I went to the library and spent the evening there trying to figure out how to make up for lost time while still making sure Noct got adequate teaching by the end of the year. I did what I could but he’ll probably need a couple of teaching sessions a week for the first month of the summer holidays. He’s going to be mad at me for it, but there’s no way around it.

Then I had to get up really early this morning so I could dismiss the incompetent before the Council session. It didn’t go down well, but I honestly was too tired to care. I doubt getting fired from the Prince’s House will be a boost to his career.

Thankfully for me, the Astrals were merciful, and the Council session ended after five hours today. His Majesty was there and it always expedite matters. I finally finished my detailed lesson plans. Still need to get some support materials and other resources but the bulk of the work is done and it should fit quite well within what used to be my Wednesday morning admin hours. I’ll catch up on them at some other point.

Sorry to bore you with all this… I guess I needed to rant to someone and I’m sorry, darling, it seems like putting up with me means listening to my work nightmares.

Are you okay, love? You sounded tired in your last letter. I miss the sparring sessions too. For all of my training, I’ve been put against fighters using similar weapons and a speed-based approach to combat. It’s quite restrictive and only allows for the development of a focused skill set. Cor does give me the occasional one-on-one tuition that is a lot less boring but we struggle to get our schedules to match. Fighting with you was a revelation. It was so challenging and powerful, made me feel I was truly pushing my limits. Maybe one day, we’ll get to do it again.

From a propriety point of view, we could, it’s easy enough to justify. But I don’t trust myself to be so close to you. Such proximity and friendly interactions would make our current situation even harder to bear. And yes, I did think you’d like the idea to be chained to my bed, but maybe I didn’t get it quite right. You don’t want chains, you want silk scarves, don’t you? We might need more than one - and feathers and crushed ice like in that scene with the Count. Do you have dark secrets I should know about, darling? Am I going to have to mercilessly interrogate you to find out? Maybe I should get a velvet ribbon to tie around you like Chivany did in that scene, to stop you from coming until you’ve admitted to all those impure thoughts that dwell in your mind, until I’m satisfied that you’re telling me the full truth, until I know you’re doomed to never find satisfaction again unless you look at me. Do you remember how cursed the Count’s sex life becomes after Chivany is done with him? Do you really want to risk it?

I did feel sorry for him when I read that chapter, you know. He might have known of a rather distasteful intrigue, but I always felt he truly liked Chivany and wanted more from him.

I should get some sleep. I hope you’ve managed to rest, I could tell you needed it.

I love you. Thank you for being so candid when answering that childish request of mine. I have a feeling I’m going to be imagining this scene a lot.

Blaze

 


	245. Chapter 245

> Subject: **Mmm. Imagining you imagining that scene. Very nice, and well worth the risk**
> 
> Tue, Dec 1, at 7:38 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Yeah, not feeling so hot. I was up all night coughing. I don't know who I caught this from but when I figure it out I'll kick their ass. I've been lying here for half an hour trying to force myself to get out of bed. I'm teaching Noct today how to handle a greatsword and no way in hell am I missing that. He's finally got enough upper-body strength to be able to lift the damn thing without falling over sideways.

Sorry Iggy, normally I would have enjoyed your story about the Count but right now all I can think about is the crushed ice and how good it would feel on my forehead.

All right, that's enough whining. Getting up now. Hope you have a better day than you did yesterday. Don't breathe near any of those idiots from the admin office! They're not only incompetent but germ-infested.

Sweatily,

Gladio

P.S. You never bore me.

 


	246. Chapter 246

 

 

Today at 1:12 PM

[NOCTIS]: Hey Iggy, can you come and pick me up?

[IGNIS]: Noct, did something happen? Are you okay?

[NOCTIS]: I’m fine. Gladio isn’t though. He was supposed to go through proper broadsword handling and maintenance with me before our training session at 3, but the training centre staff say he wasn’t looking great all morning and apparently he collapsed just before I got here.

[IGNIS]: Collapsed? Do they know what’s wrong? Did they take him to the hospital?

[NOCTIS]: No, I think Cor drove him home.

[NOCTIS]: Shit, Iggy, sorry. I forgot that you… I mean, I’m sure it’s not that bad, don’t worry.

[IGNIS]: It’s okay, Noct.

[NOCTIS]: He was probably just tired and ended up face-planting in his cup noodles.

[NOCTIS]: A shower and a nap and he’ll be right as rain. Well, rain without wind you know…

[IGNIS]: Noct, you’re babbling.

[NOCTIS]: Sorry.

[IGNIS]: I do appreciate your concern. But you’re right, I’m sure he’s fine. Cor wouldn’t have just taken him home otherwise.

[NOCTIS]: Yeah. He’s always such a drag about training injuries and all.

[IGNIS]: Indeed. Do me a favour and stay put until I get there. Gladiolus was supposed to be with you so there’s little security outside. I’ll come get you.

[NOCTIS]: What’s the plan?

[IGNIS]: You can have the afternoon off. I did rob you of a good part of Sunday with that whole geography curriculum nightmare.

[NOCTIS]: Cool. Can I text Prompto to come over after he’s done with PE?

[IGNIS]: Of course. I’m on my way, be ready to go in twenty minutes.

[NOCTIS]: Okay. Thanks, Iggy.

[IGNIS]: You’re welcome, Highness.

 


	247. Chapter 247

 

 

Today at 3:05 PM

[IGNIS]: Gladio, are you awake?

[GLADIO]: Barely, I feel like I’m dying.

[IGNIS]: Are you alone?

[GLADIO]: Yeah

[GLADIO]: Jared went shopping

[GLADIO]: Iris has dance I think

[IGNIS]: Could you open the door, love? I’m on the balcony. I brought my mother’s magic broth.

[GLADIO]: What??? What do you mean you’re on the balcony?

[IGNIS]: The gutter was easy enough to climb. But I’d appreciate if you’d let me in before someone notices me. Don’t stand up too fast though, be careful.

[GLADIO]: Don’t move. Be right there. Also you’re crazy. And I love you.

 


	248. Chapter 248

> Subject: **Hell of a lot better than instant noodles**
> 
> Wed, Dec 2 at 11:47 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hey, Iggy. I had the weirdest dreams about you. They were so vivid. I kept waking up in the middle of the night and thinking you were next to me—that we’d just been having a conversation—and then I'd realize I was only clutching a twisted mass of sheets. When the morning sun finally came through my window and I had a clearer sense of reality, I was sure I'd dreamed you on the balcony. Until I saw the empty bowl on the bedside table.

The soup was great but having you here was better. It was sweet of you to kiss me even though I was all sweaty and feverish. I hope I wasn't rambling too much. I remember telling you about a million times how happy I was to see you, and then you pressed your deliciously cool hand to the side of my neck and I just closed my eyes and let you do the talking. I do so love your voice.

Anyway, I'm better now, mostly just tired, but my head still feels like a pile of catoblepas shit so I decided to take your advice and stay home. Will you tell Noct he has the afternoon off?

Thanks for being there for me. Seriously, you have no idea how much it means.

Love you,

G.

 


	249. Chapter 249

> Subject: **Glad to hear it.**
> 
> Wed, Dec 2 at 10:09 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

It’s good to hear you’re doing better. I was worried about you, even after I left. Don’t take this the wrong way, darling, but you were not looking so hot yesterday. The look on your face when you opened that balcony door was priceless, you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Do you remember? I had to physically move you to get inside before the neighbours caught sight of us.

You were so out of it, following me around like a small child, obediently getting back in bed when I told you to, eating soup when I was hunting down an elixir. Honestly, I shouldn’t tell you off when you’re not yet fully recovered, but please cure yourself of that big bad soldier habit of ‘a potion will do.’ Potions are fine for physical injuries, but for fever and infections, elixirs are much more effective and you’re allowed one once in a while.

I don’t know how much you remember from yesterday, and I hope your actions weren’t dictated fully by the fever but I wanted to thank you for forgiving me and breaking down the barriers I put between us so easily. I didn’t know what to do, I felt I was crossing many lines just by being there with you, and I was going to go after having made sure you got curatives and fluids, but you didn’t let me. You grabbed my wrist when I tried to get up. You said ‘don’t leave.’ All I could do was stare at you. I didn’t want to leave, but after everything that’s been going on lately, I didn’t feel I had any right to stay.

You pulled on my arm.

‘Come here,’ you said.

I could have cried, you know. I’d never imagined two small words like those could make me feel so much. Relief. Love. Guilt. And Shiva knows I’m unable to deny you the way I deny myself. It was so good, Gladio, so good. Feeling you against me again, to remember you’re real and alive, and still mine in some blurry but undeniable way.

I lay near you and you pressed yourself against me, your face in my neck. You burnt so hot, my poor love. I couldn’t help myself, I had to kiss you. You protested that I was going to get sick too but I couldn’t care less. They were perfect these soft, effortless kisses. You relaxed finally, closed your eyes, told me to keep talking.

I don’t remember all I said, I was babbling about work, about Noct, about that book of raw fish recipes from Galahd I found recently. You nodded and hummed at first but soon I felt your muscles grow slack, your body get heavier against mine as you finally drifted into deep, restful sleep.

I wish I could have stayed with you until you woke up. But time was passing too fast and soon the end of afternoon was going to bring about a flurry of dangerous activity. I had to leave. I was worried I’d disturb you but you didn’t stir when I got up. I fetched a wet cloth for your forehead, watched you sleep for a while and tore myself away.

Leaving was hard, darling, but I’m glad I came to see you. I tried to rationalise it, you know, when Noct told me what happened. I thought it couldn’t be that bad since you’d only been sent home. But it didn’t work. I’d gone to get your parcel that morning before Noct asked me to come pick him up. And after I dropped him home, I sat in the car, running the soft silk of our scarf through my hands, over and over again. I couldn’t get you out of my head. I had to see you. I had to know you were okay.

So I stopped by the outdoor market near the suspended bridge and went home to make you soup. That broth was my mother’s recipe. It’s the only recipe I have left from home. When I first came to Insomnia, the winters were milder than the crisp, dry frosts I was used to at home, but the humid air of the city was full of a dangerous miasma I had no defence against, and living in a dorm in close proximity with so many people, I kept on getting cold after cold after cold. My mum sent me the recipe and some money, she said I had to find a way to make it, that it’d cure any infection and make me feel better. I still make it every time I start feeling rough.

I’m sending you a copy of the recipe with this email. It’s easy to make and who knows might prove useful to you again one day. I was worried seeing you would make bearing our current situation harder, and maybe it will in the end. Maybe I will come down from this high and feel worse for it, but right now, right now, I can’t tell you how good it feels to have been near you again - despite the unfortunate circumstances that led to it, to have felt your skin against mine once more, to have been able to kiss your forehead in goodbye while you slept.

I love you. Always. Take care of yourself, my dearest love.

Blaze

 

 


	250. Chapter 250

 

 

Today at 11:50 AM

[SANIA]: Lover boy, we need to talk.

[GLADIO]: Hey there, frog lady. I've got five minutes before I have to meet someone for lunch. What's up?

[SANIA]: I might have an idea. Not sure if it’ll work, but it might if you have someone powerful enough to pull strings for you.

[GLADIO]: I have a few connections at the Citadel. Lay it on me.

[SANIA]: You’re going to need more than that, sweetie. Look, I’m not doing this by texts.

[SANIA]: You know The White Helixhorn? Meet me there tonight at 9.

[GLADIO]: Down by the East Gate, right? Yeah, I know the place. I'll be there. Have you mentioned anything to Iggy?

[SANIA]: Not yet. We need to talk first.

[SANIA]: I’ll see you there, lover boy. I’ll be the pretty one everyone’s looking at. You can’t miss me.

[GLADIO]: Oh, I remember you. You gave me a very intense inspection from the window the last couple times I dropped him off.

[GLADIO]: This better be good.

 


	251. Chapter 251

> Subject: **You’re an amazing doctor. I know you’re not that kind of doctor but you are anyway**
> 
> Thu, Dec 3, at 5:14 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hey gorgeous,

Noct was exceedingly solicitous of me this afternoon, possibly because he was hoping I'd let him off easy. I stuck with care and handling of broadswords and avoided anything too vigorous, but I kept him till four on the dot, mainly because I knew letting him off early would wreak havoc with your schedule. I went home directly after, though.

I don't remember everything from Tuesday clearly, it was all a bit of a blur, but I can't stop thinking of your kisses. How soft and cool your lips felt against mine. How right it was, you curled by my side in a proper bed. Despite my feverishness, how _real_ it was. Not a magical escape to Dawnigh. Just a normal Insomnia afternoon. I need you, Iggy, you’re part of my heart now. I know you took a huge risk to be there for me. I know how hard it must have been for you to cross that boundary. I can't tell you how grateful I am. Noct was exaggerating, you know, or someone else did, since he got the story secondhand. I was only a little lightheaded and Cor happened to come by at the wrong time. Don't want you imagining I'm that easy to take down.

I'll treasure the recipe. Thank you, love.

Your Behemoth

P.S. Are you planning to try any of those raw fish recipes this weekend? Wish I could come by and taste-test for you.

 


	252. Chapter 252

 

 

Today at 6:33 PM

[CROWE]: We’re still on for tonight, right?

[CROWE]: Hello???

[GLADIO]: Crowe please don't kill me

[CROWE]: I KNEW IT

[CROWE]: See, this is why I texted before I bothered to change out of my workout clothes

[CROWE]: You’re turning into a real flake, Gladio

[CROWE]: If this is what love does to you, I don't think I like it

[GLADIO]: I’m really sorry

[GLADIO]: I’m meeting someone at nine

[CROWE]: Oh? Someone who's more important than your best friend, huh?

[GLADIO]: It’s not like that, I swear, babe. I’d grab a drink with you first but I don't want to pre-game this

[GLADIO]: Gonna need all my wits about me

[CROWE]: Oh do tell

[CROWE]: This better be good

[GLADIO]: Remember how you said I should stop moping and find a way to help Iggy?

[CROWE]: Yeah. You actually doing something about that?

[GLADIO]: Uh not me exactly. But his weird neighbor has some kind of idea

[CROWE]: Good for her. At least someone around here is using their head

[CROWE]: But fuck you for leaving me bored and lonely. Now I'll have to watch tonberry kung fu by myself

[GLADIO]: Hey. Why don't you join us?

[GLADIO]: She just broke up with her girlfriend

[GLADIO]: And I have a strange feeling she might be just your type

[CROWE]: Iggy's WEIRD neighbor? Wow, swordboy, you're too kind

[GLADIO]: She talked a big game about her talented tongue

[CROWE]: Huh

[CROWE]: She pretty?

[GLADIO]: Gorgeous

[GLADIO]: Not as pretty as you of course

[CROWE]: You’re a disgusting flatterer

[CROWE]: It's not going to work on me

[CROWE]: Ok maybe it's going to work on me

[CROWE]: Where at?

[GLADIO]: That divey bar where the all the hunters hang out. Pick you up at quarter till and we'll walk over together?

[CROWE]: Sure. Can't be worse than the last date I went on. She thought Montblanc was a brand of wine…

 


	253. Chapter 253

> Subject: **Only for you.**
> 
> Thu, Dec 3 at 11:30 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

You sound properly recovered and I am grateful if I could help even in a small capacity, looking after you was my pleasure, in more ways than one. And trust me, I do not say this lightly. I have a fair few first aid qualifications but I refuse to treat Noct unless he’s in real danger. He’s such an uncooperative and stubborn patient.

Have you ever heard the story of the time I took him to the emergency room when he was twelve for a splinter? He wouldn’t let me have a look and wouldn’t stop screaming, so I said ‘fine, we’re going to the hospital.’ But once there, I informed the doctors we were not expecting any special treatment and we would be seen only when all the more urgent patients had been seen to. We sat on a bench in the middle of winter watching the waltz of the ambulances in the car park, people being rolled in on gurneys, hunters rushed in for frostbite, little kids from the growing refugee boroughs coughing with pneumonia, an elderly man who had dumped a boiling kettle on his foot trying to make tea because of his arthritic hands. In fairness, Noct sat there with me. He didn’t demand to be seen, he didn’t put up a fuss, he just watched it all with widened eyes. It took a good couple of hours but he ended up giving me his hand and scrunching his eyes shut. I took the splinter out with the tweezers I’d brought with me and we went home.

He became a bit more accommodating after that, but not enough to not be an ordeal each and every time he gets sick or injured. So thank you for taking time to teach him the proper handling of a broadsword and not let him strain something during his first practice.

As for that hour we had together… Darling, I only wish the Astrals would have stopped time for us. I wanted to stay there, lying against you, just listening to you breathe, warm (a bit too warm, my poor love) and alive and, as you said, real. It hasn’t been that long but there are times I have to convince myself that it all really happened, that we really went to that haven, that we truly spent two blissful days together. But it was a place out of this world. Being with you on Tuesday, here in Insomnia, in a short spell in the middle of our normal lives, meant so much to me.

It makes imagining what it’d be like… for us to be together, to not have to hide… so much easier. And so much more painful. Yet, I won’t stop picturing it, I’ll keep believing it will get better one day because you’re all I want. I don’t remember the last time I wanted something for myself with such intensity.

I wanted to ease Noct’s burden, I wanted the tides of war to turn in our favour, I wanted… I wanted to get emancipated when I reached fifteen because it meant less hoops to jump through when carrying out my duties, and I could move out of the dorms with their restricted hours that disturbed my work. And occasionally, I wanted the odd cookbook or utensil to help hone my skills.

But none of this compares.

You’re the life I want for myself, Gladio. Such a strange thought… one that opposes all I’ve ever been taught was important. And yet, I want to offer you everything I’m able to give. You’ve given meaning to parts of me that didn’t have any until you awoke them. They’re yours, I’m yours.

I miss you, darling. And I love you. I hope you never grow tired of hearing it.

Blaze

 


	254. Chapter 254

 

 

Today at 10:18 AM

[CROWE]: So what are you going to do?

[CROWE]: Sania was a bit disappointed you didn't jump straight into action, but I told her you’d come around to it after you had a good think

[GLADIO]: When did she tell you that? I thought you were catching a taxi when I left

[CROWE]: Well, I was

[CROWE]: But it was taking forever

[CROWE]: And Sania came outside and talked me into staying for another drink

[CROWE]: She wasn't kidding about that tongue either

[GLADIO]: Crowe you didn't!

[GLADIO]: In the bathroom???

[CROWE]: Honestly Gladio

[CROWE]: Give me some credit

[CROWE]: I went home with her

[GLADIO]: CROWE

[CROWE]: I wanted to see her frogs!

[CROWE]: They're pretty cool

[CROWE]: Her apartment is practically a rainforest

[GLADIO]: Stars above. You didn't see Iggy, did you?

[CROWE]: No

[CROWE]: Are you going to tell him?

[GLADIO]: Fuck

[GLADIO]: I don't know

[GLADIO]: I mean Sania's right of course, he’d never agree to it

[GLADIO]: But I can't lie to him…

[CROWE]: It's not really lying. It’s just withholding information. Totally different

[GLADIO]: Ignis isn't going to see it that way when he finds out

[CROWE]: Hey. I know you’ve been raised to believe that behaving honorably is always the most important thing. I think it's great. It’s a beautiful part of who you are

[CROWE]: But listen, take it from a street kid, sometimes you have to be underhanded to get stuff done. I bet Iggy's not above breaking the rules when he needs to. What's more important, your spotless honor or helping him?

[GLADIO]: It's not like that. He trusts me. How can I go behind his back?

[CROWE]: Do you have a better idea?

[CROWE]: Gotta go. Drautos has been on my ass all week. Think about it, but don't take too long. With the political situation being what it is, you might be running out of time.

 


	255. Chapter 255

> Subject: **I'll give you that life someday. I promise**
> 
> Fri, Dec 4, at 4:17 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Oh sweet Blaze. I never get tired of hearing that. You know how much I love you, right? I’d do anything for you.

Listen, I know this is kinda late notice, but I've been promising Noct a fishing trip to the coast for a while now and I think this weekend might be best. He's been under so much stress with all the bad news from the front.

I suggested it this afternoon and he was excited. If you don't have plans already, would you mind if I borrowed him Saturday? We’d be back Sunday afternoon. I'll bring a couple of guards just to be safe and so the Council doesn't raise hell. He needs to start working on those survival skills and now’s as good a time as any.

Pedagogically,

Your Behemoth

P.S. I'd never heard that story about the splinter before. I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you.

 


	256. Chapter 256

> Subject: **One day. I don’t even doubt it any more.**
> 
> Fri, Dec 4 at 5:08 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Of course, you can take him. He could use a break. And if I’m perfectly honest, I am behind on that work I’d planned to do on my Wednesday mornings before I had to take on those extra tuition hours with Noct. I don’t want anyone to complain at the Council that I’m not meeting deadlines, so the timing fits perfectly. It’ll actually give me time to catch up.

I hope you have a good time. Oh and I forgot to answer you about those raw fish recipes. I haven’t made any yet, as I need some really fresh fish for them. Maybe you could catch me a couple right before you drive back on Sunday? Only if the Astrals favour your lines though. Don’t worry too much about it, otherwise.

As much as I’ll miss your letters, I’d advise you take Noct somewhere remote with no signal. He’s still a typical teenager in that respect; it can be difficult to prise his phone from him, especially since he started playing that online game with Prompto.

I’ll go over later tonight and help him pack so he’s ready to go as early as you please. Have fun, take care, and please come back in one piece. Bring all of Noct back too if you can. You have no idea the paperwork I have to go through to account for any missing royal parts.

I love you,

Blaze

 


	257. Chapter 257

 

 

Today at 6:11 PM

[NOCTIS]: Iggy.

[NOCTIS]: Iggy, Iggy, Iggy.

[NOCTIS]: I know you’ve seen it, don’t ignore me!

[IGNIS]: Not now, Noct. I’m busy.

[NOCTIS]: It’ll only take a minute!

[NOCTIS]: Iggy, come on.

[IGNIS]: It better be good. What do you need, Highness?

[NOCTIS]: Gladio wants to go fishing this weekend.

[IGNIS]: Good for him. We have the Count of Lockhart’s eighty-second birthday to go to, remember?

[NOCTIS]: What? No! You never said I had to go.

[IGNIS]: I did, on Wednesday. I suspect you were not listening. On your phone perhaps?

[IGNIS]: Either way, it would be rude not to attend.

[NOCTIS]: Iggy!

[IGNIS]: Noct.

[NOCTIS]: Come on. Please. Pretty please.

[IGNIS]: But it’ll be such a lovely party. I hear there will be eleven courses and one of those macabre percussion bands the Count loves.

[NOCTIS]: Why do you hate me?

[IGNIS]: It builds character. You need some of that.

[NOCTIS]: Oh piss off.

[IGNIS]: Language.

[NOCTIS]: Come on, Iggy. I’ll do anything.

[IGNIS]: Anything? Now, we’re talking.

[IGNIS]: You’ll do anything as long as I let you go fishing with Gladio. Do I have your word?

[NOCTIS]: Yes, fine, you have my word, you manipulative bastard.

[IGNIS]: I wouldn’t use those exact qualifiers but I can get behind the sentiment.

[NOCTIS]: Don’t be proud of it!

[IGNIS]: Why shouldn’t I? You just agreed to anything when I told Gladio you could go on his little excursion an hour ago.

[NOCTIS]: YOU KNEW ALREADY???!!!!

[IGNIS]: I’d already agreed.

[NOCTIS]: I can’t believe you!

[IGNIS]: Thank you.

[NOCTIS]: IT WASN’T A COMPLIMENT, YOU ASS.

[IGNIS]: Two extra hours of tuition next weekend, Noct, to make up for the time we’re losing this week. Either same day or one on each day, your choice. You can’t fall behind any more with your geography program. And no sulking.

[NOCTIS]: Fine. I guess, that’s fair. Do I have to decide now?

[IGNIS]: No, see how you feel next week.

[NOCTIS]: Okay, thanks Iggy.

[IGNIS]: And I’ll send your apologies to the Count.

[NOCTIS]: You’re the worst and the best all at once.

[IGNIS]: You’re welcome, Highness.

 


	258. Chapter 258

 

 

(A photograph of fishing equipment including a fishing rod with a reel, some lures in a case and a net. In the middle of it is a book titled 'The Art of Strategy - From Lost Solheim to Modern Lucis')

 


	259. Chapter 259

 

 

(A photograph of a pair of fish cooking on an outdoor grill)

 


	260. Chapter 260

 

Today at 6:41 PM  
  
[GLADIO]: Hi Iggy! Had to climb on top of a giant rock formation to get a signal but I wanted to show you I'm feeding His Highness properly. We even had vegetables. Well, I had vegetables. Noct picked around the beans and just ate the peaches…  
  
[photo of a plate containing a whole grilled fish, green beans and peaches on a wooden outdoor table]

 


	261. Chapter 261

 

 

(A photograph of an outdoor wooden table illuminated by a camping lamp. A wooden board with the remains of a cooked fish has been pushed in the corner. Most of the table is filled with books and papers. One of the papers has got a section circled in red with an arrow pointing to it.)

 


	262. Chapter 262

> Subject: **Returned in excellent condition, only missing a finger or two**
> 
> Sun, Dec 6 at 4:32 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Hey gorgeous,

Just got home. We did have a good time but it would have been more fun if you were there. The guards gave us our space, so Noct and I got in some one-on-one bonding. It was nice—we haven't had much of that recently, since he moved out of the Citadel. Left a couple of fish for you in his fridge. Noct was particularly proud of the enormous barramundi, make sure you compliment him on it. The line nearly snapped a few times but he managed to haul that sucker in without any help from me. You should've seen his face!

How was your weekend? I hope you didn't work the whole time.

Miss you. Love you. And everything in between.

Behemoth

 


	263. Chapter 263

 

 

Today at 5:32 PM

[IGNIS]: Glad to know you’re back. My weekend was busy but productive. I managed to run a couple of errands besides work too, so overall it was pretty satisfying. Although I missed your letters.

[IGNIS]: I’m going to prepare the fish tonight. As I mentioned raw recipes cannot wait, why don’t you join us at Noct’s? Prompto is coming too and it’s only fair you get to eat some of it after all the effort you put into catching them. I don’t think anyone could think this anything else but well deserved.

[GLADIO]: Are you sure? I don't want to make you uncomfortable

[IGNIS]: That depends. Can I trust you to behave?

[IGNIS]: In front of Prompto and Noct at least…

[GLADIO]: I'll even wear a shirt. Will you be able to keep your hands to yourself? Last time I saw you, you took advantage of me in my sickbed

[GLADIO]: It was hot

[IGNIS]: It was. And I remember you saying it made you feel better.

[IGNIS]: I have missed you. A lot. But I’ll mostly have my hands in the fish and I’m not giving Noct and Prompto any reasons to show off their immaturity.

[IGNIS]: I could drive you home though. Later. If you wanted.

[GLADIO]: I do want that. Can you borrow one of those very officious palace cars with the smoked windows? And then you can put your hands in something else

[GLADIO]: MY PANTS

[GLADIO]: Just kidding. Seriously, it sounds like lots of fun, thanks for thinking of me. I’ll bring a couple bottles of sake. Prompto's old enough to drink, right?

[GLADIO]: We’ll celebrate three months. They won't know, but you and I will

[IGNIS]: You’re incorrigible.

[IGNIS]: Shiva knows we shouldn’t even be thinking of this.

[IGNIS]: But I never realised how weak I could be until you came along. I can get one of those cars. Not promising anything else though, we’ll have to be cautious and there will probably be guards around.

[IGNIS]: Be there for 7. Prompto can drink with supervision. We’ll have to drive him home too.

[GLADIO]: I really was only joking. Promise. I don't want to get you in trouble. It’ll be a treat just to sit across the table and have a normal conversation. You won't spend the whole evening on your phone, will you?

[IGNIS]: Not if you don’t spend it drinking and staring at the inside of your glass.

[GLADIO]: You've got a deal. See ya then

 


	264. Chapter 264

 

 

(Above is a photograph of a plate of sashimi and a cup of sake.)

 


	265. Chapter 265

> Subject: **I’m so full I’m gonna roll into bed**
> 
> Sun, Dec 6 at 9:28 PM
> 
> From: deadoralive@eosmail.com
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com

 

The dreamy duo just dropped me off. Dude, they are so lying about breaking up. Did you catch the major weirdness at dinner? They were avoiding each other's eyes the whole time until Gladio filled Iggy's sake cup and he literally paused mid-pour and they just STARED at each other for, like, five minutes. I wanted to kick you under the table but I was afraid Iggy would catch me.

Speaking of which, what really happened when you were camping? I could tell that wasn't the whole story and Iggy would have noticed too if he hadn't been busy trying to communicate telepathically with Gladio or something.

Anyway that sashimi was amazing. I wish Iggy would come to my house and cook for me. I bet they serve soggy gross fishsticks for school lunch tomorrow, uggggghhhhhh

 


	266. Chapter 266

> Subject: **Not getting out of bed until I’ve digested all of it. If Iggy expects me to get up in the morning he has another thing coming. :P**
> 
> Sun, Dec 6 at 10:24 PM
> 
> From: tackleandbait@eosmail.com
> 
> To: deadoralive@eosmail.com

 

I don’t think they’re lying really. They’re just terrible at the whole breaking up thing. It’s kind of funny actually. For years, I’ve been looking for something - just one thing! - that Iggy wouldn’t be good at. I’ve talked him into doing the most random stuff, just to see how he’d fare. Remember that pottery hobby I took on for like a month last summer?

I thought I got him then, because his stuff was a mess to start with. But then he came back the next week and was crafting that amazing twirly vase and I was like ‘what the hell?’ and he was all ‘oh, I couldn’t get the hang of it and it was bothering me, so I spent Sunday at the workshop of Master Gaia Quake from Tenebrae. She was really helpful. Want me to teach you?’

I love him but sometimes I hate him, you know?

Anyway, I wouldn’t in a million years have thought that I’d find the thing Iggy is incapable of and that that thing would be breaking up with Gladiolus Amicitia. I mean… it sounds like a bad joke. And it’d be really funny if it didn’t make him so miserable.

But yeah, Gladio and I talked during our trip. He was saying how they truly wanted to take some distance until the situation changed so Iggy’s job with me would be safe, because even secrecy was too risky since it’d take just one slip to ruin it all. And even though they’d barely done anything that could be considered dating, some of their friends and you and I had already found out, so it was quite stressful for them and they felt it was better to break it off for now.

But they still write to each other, and every time Gladio mentioned it he got that dreamy air on his face, and I had to shove him. And then he was like ‘what?’ all innocent. They don’t even realise what they’re doing, I swear. Anyway, then he went on about how they’ve been trying but they can’t seem to get away from each other… and then he was waxing lyrical about magnetic forces or whatever and I sat there, looking at him and being like ‘WHO are you, man?’

Like I never expected Gladio, of all people, to turn sappy poetic on me. It’s disturbing. Honestly, watching them makes me think that being in love is kind of weird and unsettling. It’s like it changes who you are… I don’t know, dude, it creeps me out. But they did look happy tonight, didn’t they? Iggy was smiling every time Gladio said something. He’s been quite closed off lately, so it was nice to see him relax like that. And yeah, I’ve noticed Gladio staring, not like he’s subtle really. He probably thinks he is; but yeah, these two just can’t be in public together. They’re so painfully OBVIOUS.

I think they realise it though, to some extent at least, which is why they stay away as much as they can. I didn’t say anything because come on, AWKWARD… but I was kind of touched that they’d meet like that around us. I mean, they trust us, you know? Really trust us. Or they wouldn’t have done it.

Gladio came up with a plan though - or Iggy’s friend did, I think; it’s all very confusing. It’s like this super long shot and he wanted me to help because my dad has to sign off on it and he wanted me to ask him. And you know, how much I hate asking my dad for anything… but I said I’d do it for them. Well, that was after I asked Gladio if he was sure because Iggy has a stick up his ass and it might interfere with their ‘pursuits’… He smacked me. So I called my sword out and we sparred around the campfire, and the guards came to see what was going on and were all like O___O, because my Shield was running after me in circles with his broadsword out and you could see on their faces the whole ‘I haven’t trained, nor am I paid enough, for this shit.’ It was kind of hilarious.

And then Gladio had me in the dirt because of course, he did. One day, I’ll knock him out, you just wait. Even if it takes years, I’ll do it.

Oh here we are… so goddamn predictable. Took him longer than usual.

 

 

Anyway, I said I’d help. Because as much as the sappiness is going to be painful to watch, they deserve each other. I don’t know if it’ll work, but I know I owe them both, so I’m going to try. Even if dad is going to have a field day with this…

Talk tomorrow,

N.

 


	267. Chapter 267

> Subject: **Knew you wouldn't be able to keep your hands to yourself**
> 
> Sun, Dec 6 at 10:52 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Dear Blaze,

You're amazing. I love you.

Behemoth

P.S. That was the best sashimi I've ever had. Meant to tell you sooner but we were otherwise occupied.

 


	268. Chapter 268

> Subject: **You’re one to talk.**
> 
> Sun, Dec 6 at 11:59 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I was pleased to notice you had all your fingers still, despite that cheeky email you sent me. You better look after them since you enjoy putting them to such good use. And I rather enjoy it too when you do.

I am torn between feeling we were rather rash and unreasonable to share those few risky moments together, relief from having you against me, with me again, and frustration that we did not have the kind of privacy needed to take things further.

Would you be surprised if I admitted my brain hurts from all this?

So I’m not going to try and decipher my own feelings now, I’m going to go lie in my bed and think of you, think of how you were content to let me kiss you for so long, think of that new cologne you wear - yes, I noticed and I like it, think of your hand slipping under my shirt, warm and unhesitating. Speaking of, how did you make such a mess of my clothes in such a short amount of time? And have you got any idea how difficult it was to straighten it all out before getting out of the car?

Shiva took pity on me though and Sania didn’t see me come home. That would have been a rather unfortunate turn of event and might have ruined my good mood.

It’s a cruel fate indeed, one that provides such blessed fragments of solace, yet ends up making me miss you all the more for it.

I didn’t have time to tell you tonight - and I did not want to in front of the others - but I did celebrate our three months in my own way. No, not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter (although yes, possibly also like that, but I’m admitting to nothing).

So here… I told you how I was keeping that lock of your hair in a handkerchief, didn’t I? It didn’t feel quite appropriate though and I always worried it might get misplaced, so I had an idea.

You remember that jeweller that carved Noct’s marble for me? I got them to make something else. No-one would know the significance of that engraving except for us, but I’m glad to finally have a vessel worthy of you. Be kind and do not mock my sentimentality; surrounding myself with such solid, physical reminders of what we share makes you feel close even when all is still seeking to drive us apart.

I should stop here. I want to drift to sleep when I still feel the grain of your skin under my fingertips and your voice whispering in my ear. ‘I missed you, my Blaze.’ Did you feel me shiver when you said it? Just thinking of it, it happens again.

I missed you too. I miss you more for that brief and blissful moment we were granted tonight. I love you,

Your Blaze

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jewellery work commissioned from the lovely and very talented Raufnir, go give them some love and see what else they do [here](http://expectogladiolus.tumblr.com).


	269. Chapter 269

 

 

Today at 4:02 PM

[NOCTIS]: Just done it. Sent a demand for an audience. I wonder what he’s gonna think, I don’t remember ever going through the official channels before, but this is too important.

[NOCTIS]: Damn, Prompto, this could go soooooo wrong.

[PROMPTO]: Like he could get mad and fire them both

[NOCTIS]: Yes!

[NOCTIS]: No! He wouldn’t fire Gladio. It would make too many waves. Besides, Clarus is his friend. But he could send him on a six month survival trip in Leide or something. And Iggy… well he could do anything, send him to work in the archives or something. I dunno…

[NOCTIS]: Or get mad at me too.

[NOCTIS]: You’re not helping!

[PROMPTO]: Sorry dude

[PROMPTO]: The guy next to me has a cat in his desk for some reason and it is super distracting

[PROMPTO]: Gladio would love a six month survival trip

[PROMPTO]: But don't worry! I bet your dad’s gonna be impressed. You're showing, like, princely initiative

[NOCTIS]: Gladio would HAVE LOVED a six month survival trip. Now he’d probably sit on a rock all day long, writing poems to Iggy with a stick in the sand and then watch the wind erase them and cry.

[NOCTIS]: The world has gotten so weird, I swear.

[NOCTIS]: And I hope you’re right. I really hope you’re right.

 


	270. Chapter 270

> Subject: **My fingers are spoiled now. They refused the blade this afternoon and asked for you instead**
> 
> Mon, Dec 7 at 8:33 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Sweetest love,

I shivered too, reading your words just now. It’s odd how immediate you always are, even when I'm only re-reading your email (for, oh, the tenth time) on my small phone screen. I'm up on the roof again. I stopped coming here for a while. It was too painful and the lights of your apartment (I swear I can see them, even if they're just a tiny piece of the city night) were too much a reminder of how far you were. After last night, though, I found myself wanting to be up here again. Blaze, you were irresistible. There was the tiniest portion of my conscience telling me I ought to be careful and instead I dug into your clothes like I was peeling a fruit, biting deep into the sweetness and the juice—I hope I didn't mark your neck. I do apologize for disheveling you so disgracefully.

Anyway, you remember that I said your visit when I was sick felt somehow realer than magical Dawnigh? Last night was even more so. A few weeks ago it would have seemed so implausible as to be a cruel joke. But as frustrating as it was (imagine me once I closed my bedroom door upon returning home, love, and spare no detail, it's all true), it was satisfaction enough that it was us—you and me—in each other's arms—no fever this time, flushed only a little from the sake, and the taste of shoyu still on your tongue.

Give your gorgeous brain a rest, please, for me? It seems a shame that it should suffer from our delicious postprandial activities. I know you've probably been in Council all day. I hope you can take some time to yourself this evening. And if your own fingers wander to solitary pursuits, do write and tell me about it.

Insatiably,

Your Behemoth

P.S. The locket is beautiful. I'm awed and honored. To think that some small part of me is so close to you is a comfort and a promise I accept gratefully.

 


	271. Chapter 271

> Subject: **I hope I can always be their preference.**
> 
> Mon, Dec 7 at 10:09 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I read your letter before dinner and I decided you were right. I wanted to give my mind a rest, I got entangled in your bittersweet words, ‘solitary pursuits.’ Bitter because lonely but sweet because the memories from those brief moments we shared yesterday are still fresh in my mind and I knew they would colour every touch. It wouldn’t be quite as good as your hands on me, but it’d be the next best thing. I thought I’d cook, have a shower and let your words guide my fingers somewhere peaceful and pleasurable I could later tell you about. If I couldn’t bring you there with me, I thought, I could at least leave you an easy trail to follow.

But it wasn’t meant to be. I settled on my bed with Triple Threat. I thought I’d read that scene with Chivany and the Count again, put myself in a mood attuned to your desires - hardly a difficult endeavour. But I had barely opened the book that my peace got disturbed in a rather dramatic fashion.

My dear meddling neighbour seems to have found her rebound. And what a rebound it is… I’m sure she’s a lovely lady, but all I can tell you is that she’s one loud lady. But credit where credit is due, she’s also an appreciative one. Anyway, as you can imagine, my own mood deflated pretty quickly having to listen to their very much not solitary pursuits.

I gave up, took some music with me and went up to the roof for a bit. The Astrals definitely have a bone to pick with me tonight, I was barely there for five minutes that it started raining. I consoled myself by hoping it would turn into a raging thunderstorm that would drown every other sound out but it’s now been forty minutes and it’s still not happening.

And yes, my neighbour and her new conquest are still at it.

Girls are cheating by having multiple orgasms and no refractory period. The combination is just unfair. I keep on thinking they must be getting exhausted but so far I’m pretty sure they could beat even you in pure stamina, and I don’t mean just in the bedroom. They’re seriously impressive.

So darling, instead of being able to share with you my luscious reveries and sultry pastime, I’m miserably knitting blanket squares, wrapped in a duvet in my armchair, metal blaring into my ears so loudly that I’ll probably have some irreversible hearing loss by tomorrow. I don’t think I’m going to go anywhere near my bedroom again tonight.

And knowing her, this probably won’t be a one time thing.

I love you, but if you ever say to me ‘I love your tongue,’ I will hit you. I’ve been thoroughly traumatised.

I miss you. I wish we could meet somewhere, anywhere, as long as it isn’t here.

Blaze

 


	272. Chapter 272

 

 

An official letter dated from Tuesday the 8th of December in Insomnia, that states:

'To His Royal Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum, 

His Illustrious Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum has granted you audience as per your recent request.

Your petition will be heard on Wednesday the 9th of December at ten o'clock in the morrow in His Majesty's private study at the Citadel.

On behalf of His Illustrious Majesty,

Haborym Damcyan, First Secretary of the Royal House of Lucis'

 


	273. Chapter 273

 

 

Today at 6:12 PM

[GLADIO]: Crowe

[GLADIO]: Have I ever told you that Blaze writes incredible letters?

[CROWE]: Only a thousand times

[GLADIO]: Life-changing letters. Letters you keep for the rest of your life if you’re lucky enough to get them.

[CROWE]: Are you feeling OK Gladio

[GLADIO]: No I’m not. Let me tell you why. Blaze was going to write me a letter

[GLADIO]: About my favorite chapter

[GLADIO]: Of my favorite book

[GLADIO]: And YOU

[CROWE]: Wait, what???

[GLADIO]: And your new friend with the busy mouth

[CROWE]: Uh oh

[GLADIO]: Kept him up all night instead

[GLADIO]: And he doesn’t get enough sleep as it is

[GLADIO]: Am I going to regret introducing you two?

[CROWE]: Jeez, swordboy

[CROWE]: When did you turn into such a pill

[CROWE]: We’ll keep it down tonight

[GLADIO]: Two nights in a row??

[CROWE]: Don’t be jealous just cause some of us are getting laid, honey

[GLADIO]: Hmph

[GLADIO]: Ok, maybe a little

[GLADIO]: We on for Thursday?

[CROWE]: I might have plans

[GLADIO]: Aha. Is this payback for all those times I stood you up?

[CROWE]: Absolutely! Kiss kiss, babe, I gotta run. We’ll talk later, ok?

 


	274. Chapter 274

 

 

Today at 6:49 PM

[CROWE]: Hiiiiiiiiii

[SANIA]: Hey, lovely. <3 On your way?

[CROWE]: Better idea. Just got out of the shower. I do my best thinking there. And I was thinking of you

[CROWE]: I was going to take you dancing

[CROWE]: But since you don’t teach till Monday, and I’ve got liberty time owed

[CROWE]: And if you don’t mind packing tonight instead of hitting the town…

[CROWE]: Have you ever been to Dawnigh?

[SANIA]: Let’s see if you can guess the answer. They have 37 endemic frog and toad species roaming around those lakes. :P

[SANIA]: I love Dawnigh. It’s frog central.

[SANIA]: I even discovered a new species in a cave near the western hot springs. No one wanted to believe something could live down there but I knew better than to assume. So I put on a full body heat-resistant suit to not get cooked alive and went spelunking. It was a lot of fun. And then I found those tiny little white frogs. They live in complete darkness and have no eyes, but if you shine a torch on them their skin glitters like ice. They’re beautiful.

[SANIA]: I’ll show you pictures next time. But you’re not allowed to see the pics of me in that body suit. It was rather unsexy.

[SANIA]: But somehow I don’t think hunting down frogs is what you have in mind.

[CROWE]: Anyone ever tell you you're pretty intense?

[CROWE]: I like that

[CROWE]: You can tell me all about the frogs on the drive up. Don't pack a bathing suit, we're going skinny dipping

[SANIA]: But you’ll still help me catch some frogs if we see interesting ones, right?

[SANIA]: Also when are we back? I need to know if I have to go and pester my dear neighbour about watering my plants for me.

[CROWE]: Of course! You can teach me how to collect them. Tell him we'll get you home Sunday night at the latest

[CROWE]: And we'll bring some fish. I hear he makes a wicked sashimi

[SANIA]: He makes a wicked everything. That boy is wasted in government. I don’t care how good a strategist he is, any moment he’s not in the kitchen is a tragedy.

[SANIA]: But maybe we should hold off on your grand reveal until the situation between him and Muscle Boy is sorted.

[CROWE]: Oh, right, he doesn't know about us yet. The suspense is killing me! Ok, gotta pack my gear. Pick you up at 9am

[SANIA]: 9? Sweetie, we’ll miss the sunrise. That’s the best part. Sunrise on the road. Pick me up at 5. :P

[CROWE]: You better bring some damn good coffee if you want me to wake up that early on my day off. 5 it is. See ya then

[SANIA]: See you, Sweetie. Promise, I’ll make it up to you with more than coffee. ;)

 


	275. Chapter 275

> Subject: **Always**
> 
> Tue, Dec 8 at 11:56 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Poor Blaze! I hope you’re asleep already, making up for your lost hours last night. If your rowdy neighbors dare disturb your rest (and your reveries) again, do let me know and I’ll be over directly to apply the hilt of my sword on their door until they keep their erotic vocalizations to a respectable level. (Maybe someday we’ll be able to get our revenge. I’ve coaxed some rather outrageous noises out of you myself, if I remember correctly.)

I wish I could sneak you away somewhere quiet for dinner tomorrow. Sunday was fun, but sharing the table with Noct and Prompto isn’t what I have in mind. But I’ll be patient. Someday I’m going to curl up next to you with a book while you knit, with my head on your leg, feeling the small movement of your muscles as you shift occasionally. Listening to your peaceful breathing. I’ll be patient—but after a while I’ll reach up and uncurl your fingers, one by one, from the needles. And then take your warm fingertips into my mouth, biting lightly, and hearing your breath speed up as you imagine what I’ll do next…

Oh, and Noct probably told you, I’m taking him away from his morning classes so we can work on a project of his. He said you have an appointment in the city tomorrow but I didn’t want you to worry if you can’t get ahold of him. I’ll drop him off at school for the afternoon session.

Sweet dreams, love.

Behemoth

 


	276. Chapter 276

> Subject: **Today of all days**
> 
> Wed, Dec 9 at 8:52 AM
> 
> From: deadoralive@eosmail.com
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com

 

You were supposed to help me dissect frogs!! You know I hate doing this!!!!!

Now I’ll have to fake a text from old Mrs. Fabool next door. She locked herself out of the apartment just last week, so it’s not technically a lie… right?

Miss Yoshitaka looks three sheets to the wind already so I’m pretty sure she’ll buy it. How did it go? Do they have snacks at the royal audience? If you’re eating pastries while I’m stuck here smelling formaldehyde, I’m going to CRY. I almost took a photo for you but it’s way too gross blurrrrrgggghhhhhh

 


	277. Chapter 277

** Minutes of the Private Audience Sessions of His Illustrious Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum  **

** As recorded on the 9th of December of the 23rd year of His Blessed Reign by your most humble servant Eraqus Loire, official scribe of the Royal House of Lucis.  **

**Third audience starting at 10:04am, supplicant is His Royal Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum **

 

_His Royal Highness (H.R.H.) Noctis Lucis Caelum comes in front of His Illustrious Majesty (H.I.M.) Regis Lucis Caelum’s desk and makes an obeisance._

**His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Thank you for seeing me, Your Majesty.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** It is rare for you to present such a request; you got me curious.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Does he need to be here?

_H.R.H. gestures towards your humble and obedient servant._

**His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** You chose to ask for an official audience. He stays.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Fine.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** What is this about? My time is precious, Noctis.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I’m aware. It’s about Ignis.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Scientia? What about him?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** His work for the Council has tripled over the past couple of years, it’s interfering with his duties as my tutor.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Get an adjunct tutor then. Your House has the funds, tell Scientia to select someone.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I don’t want an adjunct tutor.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** We have larger concerns than what you want. The boy is talented, he’s got a sharp mind and he’s cultivated it well. He’s already proven to be an asset we cannot afford not to use. There are many teachers in Insomnia who could tutor you adequately, there are probably none who could predict the Empire’s moves with Scientia’s instinct and accuracy.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I know that.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** The only reason he’s still attached to your House is because I know he means a lot to you. And he’s a good teacher and a good influence. Besides, I’m not blind, I know that boy’s primary loyalty is to you, which is all to your credit. But with the way the war is going, I can’t allow you to be selfish, Noctis. I need you to understand that.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I know that, that’s not what I meant!

_H.R.H. passes his hands in his hair with a sigh._

**His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Whatever did you mean, then?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** That we should make sure we don’t squander the talents our people gift us with. There’s no reason for Iggy to be doing half of the things he’s doing on a daily basis. As a secretary of the Council, he’s writing minutes and putting presentations and summaries together for all the nobles who can’t be bothered to read the full dossiers, and dealing with stupid stuff like making sure refreshments have been ordered. That’s a waste of his time and someone else should be doing that.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** I hear he also spends an awful lot of time cleaning after you. That’s hardly a good use of his talents either.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Maybe I could consider getting someone else to do that too.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Hm… you’re serious about this.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** I understand the request, but I can’t grant it. I can’t exempt him of his duties. There needs to be consistency in the expectations attached to the roles our Houses bestow upon our subjects, Noctis. Otherwise, our whole government would soon become chaotic and unruly. It’s not something we can afford, not in these dire times anyway.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I couldn’t agree more.

_H.I.M. and H.R.H. stare at each other for a few seconds._

**His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** I am not following.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** It’s rather simple. Exemptions are not the answer. Ignis needs a new role.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** A new role? What kind of role are we talking about?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** One that comes with less strings and more freedom.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** That sounds like a rather fanciful notion; but you obviously have something in mind. Talk.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Royal Strategist.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** There’s no such thing. I am not creating new positions to accommodate your fancy, we’ve been over this already.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Would you listen?! It’s nothing new.

_H.R.H. walks to H.I.M.’s desk and places a folder on top of it._

**His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** It hasn’t been filled recently, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I’ve checked, it’s still there in the hierarchy tree of the Old Archives. It only needs an assignment to become active again.

_H.I.M. peruses the document._

**His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Recently? It’s been over six hundred years.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** So? The point stands.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Do you even know why the position stopped being filled?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Yes, because the last person who held that title stabbed the king in the eyeball with a fish knife. And the new king was grateful but not that grateful because he thought the plot wouldn’t have worked if the Royal Strategist had had proper oversight. I’ve read the chapter too, you know.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** And you want me to name someone to that post again?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** It’s not someone, it’s Iggy. Besides, everybody agrees that king was a piece of [term referring to bodily waste].

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Language, Noctis. And how did you even find something like that? Did Scientia tell you to ask for this?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Oh, come on. No, he did not. He wouldn’t have the time. That’s kind of the point.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** How then?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I was worried about him. One of his friends who’s a teacher at Insomnia Uni was worried too, she helped me find it.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** You do realise that if we do this, he will have no official House ties, no hierarchy to respect. He will answer directly to me from here on. He might be able to have more freedom to decide on how to manage his duties and what those duties are, but you won’t have a say over any of it anymore.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I know.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** I could order him to drop all tutoring and he won’t be able to refuse.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Yes, but you won’t.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Why not?

_H.R.H. mutters something inaudible._

**His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Speak up, Noctis, I didn’t hear that.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Yes, you did.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Speak up.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Oh fine! You won’t because you love me.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** And what if he decides tutoring you is not the priority anymore. He’d have enough latitude for that as well, you know.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** He won’t. You said it earlier, his primary loyalty is to me.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** You’re very sure of yourself.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I’m very sure of him.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** You might think this a simple thing, Noctis, but it is not. It would cause a lot of waves. He’s way too young for the import of such a role and he’s a commoner.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Why does that matter?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Regardless of the morality of it, it will not be well received. Whether you agree with the sentiment or not, you still need to be aware of and manage such reactions. Being overly dismissive of your subjects’ concerns is a dangerous slope toward tyranny.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Even if they’re wrong?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Especially if they’re wrong. Forcing change breeds discontent. A smart ruler brings change about in a gradual and gentle fashion.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** So you won’t do it?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** I did not say that. But this is a negotiation, Noctis. You want something, and I need you to understand the cost of what you’re asking. This is not a small gift I can grant you as your father. You’re going to have to give something in return. Think of it, while I check the feasibility of this.

_H.I.M. uses the intercom._

**His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Send me the Crownsguard officer on duty.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** What? Why?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** If Scientia’s going to be in a position to give orders to our military, he will need an honorary military grade. It’s tradition.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** No. I mean… it’d be fine without it, right?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** As I said, it’s tradition. Why does it matter?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I… I just… I don’t like the idea, because then if he’s military then other people can order him about and stuff. The goal was for that to happen less.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** It’s only honorary. It doesn’t really give anyone power over him.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** So he won’t have to follow all their rules and stuff?

_Marshal Cor ‘the Immortal’ Leonis enters and gives an obeisance to H.I.M. and a salute to H.R.H._

**Marshal Cor Leonis:** Your Majesty, Your Highness. How might I be of service?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Just a moment, Marshal, if you will.

 **Marshal Cor Leonis:** Of course, Your Grace.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** I am finding this curious, Noctis.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** What is?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** You’re prepared to relinquish your hold over Scientia completely, only relying on his goodwill and mine to preserve your bond with him, you’re ready to give up some of his care despite how much you hate the idea, and you didn’t bat an eyelid when I told you you’d have to give something up in exchange, but I mentioned the Crownsguard and you got all flustered. Why is that?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I’m not flustered.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Answer the question.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I have no idea what you’re talking about.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** I thought it was odd that you would request a position that would officially take him out of your House, but maybe it wasn’t odd after all. Maybe it’s actually one of the reasons you wanted that new role for him.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Why would I want that? It makes no sense.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** You better not be lying to me, young man.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I’m not lying. I don’t want him out of my House. There’s just no other way.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Hm, but no other way for what? Scientia has been busy for months, so why now? There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I… I can’t say.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Why not?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I gave my word. But everything we’ve discussed still stands.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Fine, let’s piece it together, shall we? You want to preserve Scientia’s dedication to you, but you also want him out of your House. Yet, you don’t want him to be in the Crownsguard. See, this bothers me because the City Guard has been in charge of your protection ever since you started living outside the Citadel, and there’s currently only one common denominator between your House and the Crownsguard.

_H.R.H. does not answer, but stays head bowed, staring at the floor._

**His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Marshal? Who is that common denominator?

 **Marshal Cor Leonis:** Lord Shield Gladiolus Amicitia, Your Grace.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Who would have thought… Clarus’s son and your bright, young tutor.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** What of it?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Did Gladiolus ask you to come to me?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** That’s only part of it. All that I’ve said earlier is still true, Iggy can’t carry on as it is. If a new position can also make him happy, what’s the harm?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** The harm is the reason why this shouldn’t be happening in the first place. They are members of your retinue. I care little for them having other priorities.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** They don’t!

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** They obviously do or you would not be standing here.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Would you listen?!

 **Marshal Cor Leonis:** Highness, it might be better if…

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** No! I’m not having it. I’m not having their loyalties questioned when they’ve been heartbroken for months so nobody would do that in the first place. Iggy was so worried about it, he’s been trying to give up on his feelings and he’s miserable. All for my sake. And Gladio is miserable too. Explain to me how having them miserable is better for their service? Better for me?

It damn well isn't. I’m fed up with them being all gloomy because they have to put me first. It’s not what I want. It’s not what they want. So yes, I offered to help. And I’m not going to bow out now. We tried to go around all the stupid rules, we tried to respect people’s prejudices exactly like you said, and what for? So you’d accuse them of the exact same thing in the end!

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Are you quite finished?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** That depends. I’m not leaving here without a solution.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** What if there isn’t one?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Then we make one. It’s our job, isn’t it? Looking after the people? Well, here are two of our best people, let’s get to it.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** It is agreeable to see you caring so much, whatever the reason. But let this be a lesson to you, Noctis, you need to prepare your negotiation plans better. You gave yourself away because of a false problem.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** What? What do you mean?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Marshal, enlighten my son if you please.

 **Marshal Cor Leonis:** The Crownsguard doesn’t have a military code of conduct like the City Guard, Your Highness.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** It doesn’t?

 **Marshal Cor Leonis:** It never has. Historically, the members of the Crownsguard were all from noble families; commoners only started being admitted into its ranks during the past century. Because of that there is no rule against fraternisation. It would have been problematic since noble families have always had a strong tendency to date and marry one another. This is in part the reason why relationships within the same House have always been considered problematic. It was a way to draw a line of conduct somewhere. Since belonging to the same corps did not prevent fraternisation, efforts to maintain propriety focused on shared assignments instead. Over time, probably because the rule was vague and unspoken, the sentiment expanded to include all members of a House and any personal relationship within it to be inappropriate.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Oh.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Indeed. Anyway, Marshal, I did not mean to take up your time.

 **Marshal Cor Leonis:** It’s quite all right, Your Grace.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Would we have room for an honorary commission in the Crownsguard?

 **Marshal Cor Leonis:** Absolutely, Sire. The quota of assignments hasn’t been filled over the past two years. We’ve been focusing on strengthening both the Glaives and the City Guard instead.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Good. Thank you, Marshal. You can go.

_Marshal Leonis bows and leaves._

**His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Where were we?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** You said I had to prepare negotiation plans better.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Indeed.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I meant what I said. I want a solution.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** I can’t chastise you for your stubbornness. I know where you got it from.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** So what?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** So since you care so much, we will move ahead with that plan of yours, but will do it gradually. I will sign an order to assign Scientia as Royal Strategist but it will be conditional on his performance over the next two years. If he falters at any point, he will not be confirmed.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** That’s fine. Iggy doesn’t falter.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Your faith in him is admirable. However, this position will come with increased responsibilities and will challenge him in ways he might not be prepared for. Not everyone will be pleased with his new authority. I am agreeing to this only because the boy has always proven up to any new challenges that have presented themselves to him. However, if he decides that frolicking with Clarus’s son is more to his taste, he will not find me merciful.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** He won’t disappoint you. I know he won’t.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Now, let’s talk about your side of the bargain.

_H.R.H. lets out a loud sigh._

**His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Fine. What do you want?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Scientia in this new position will leave us a Council Secretary short. I will get him to train someone during the summer, I want you to go along to every one of these sessions. I expect you to be able to perform their duties by the end of it. It will show you a side of the Council that you’ve never seen, I hope you see it as an opportunity to learn more about its functionment.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Fine.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** You will still be attending a Council session a month. I will not see you leave or act in a way that is disrespectful to the sanctity of our office ever again. If you have an issue with my decisions or you struggle to understand why I made them, you can request to talk to me later. Is that clear?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Yes, sir.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Then…

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** More?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Are you reconsidering?

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** No. Go ahead.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Your flat will be on the official rota of the sanitation department. They will do the cleaning and chores as you need them to, and you will not complain about it. I know Scientia will still try to look after you, but the bulk of it will now be outside the remit of his functions.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Can I get the same cleaner every time?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** You may, but you only get to change them twice, after that you will get whoever is assigned to you on a weekly basis, so choose wisely.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Fair, I guess.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** And finally, starting next year, I expect you to find and keep a part time job at least two nights a week after school.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** What? Why?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Because that’s what high school students do and it will do you good.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Any kind?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Whatever you can find. It can even be with that bouncy fellow you like so much. That’s your call, but I don’t want to hear any complaint about your work.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Okay. Is that it?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** For you, yes. Now, as for the other two, I will let you relay this to them. Once this is signed, they will be free to do whatever they want in their private time and will keep it there. When on duty, however, there will be no questionable conduct. I don’t care if they want to spar or have lunch together. But if I hear one complaint about inappropriate behaviour, even if it’s just longing looks or hand holding, Scientia will find himself teaching strategy to Accordo’s fishermen before he can say ‘apologies.’ His talent won’t save him.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Yes, sir.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** As for Gladiolus, you tell that boy to remember whose Shield he is and to focus on that. Scientia is probably going to have it rough for a while but he will have to fight his own battles, if he has any hope to maintain his position. Trying to step in would be doing him a disservice, make sure Gladiolus understands that.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Yes, sir. Thank you.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** You’re welcome, son. I hope you won’t come to regret this.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I won’t. They’re my people. I trust them.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** I guess they are. You’ve grown, Noctis.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Thank you, Your Majesty.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** One more thing.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Another condition?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** No. This is a separate issue. I regret to have had to cancel our last few dinners together. I want to make it a regular thing again. Friday nights, from now on.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Okay.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** I can’t promise I won’t have to cancel again.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** I know. I get it.

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Good. I will see you on Friday then.

 **His Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum:** Yes, sir. And thank you again for your help. I appreciate it.

_H.R.H. bows and leaves the room._

_H.I.M. reads the folder still on the desk for a couple of minutes._

_H.I.M. uses the intercom._

**His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Clarus.

_His Excellency Lord Shield Clarus Amicitia enters._

**His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** I am rather unhappy with your House, old friend.

 **Lord Shield Clarus Amicitia:** If we are at fault, I will make amends. But in what respect, Sire?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Your son has turned my son into a romantic fool.

 **Lord Shield Clarus Amicitia:** What? You don’t mean?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** Sweet Astrals, no. The heavens have mercy on us.

 **Lord Shield Clarus Amicitia:** I…

_His Excellency turns to your humble servant._

**Lord Shield Clarus Amicitia:** Why are you copying this?

 **His Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum:** I forgot to tell him to stop. The audience session is over, you can go and file the minutes.

_~ End of meeting ~_

 


	278. Chapter 278

> Subject: **New Assignment**
> 
> Wed, Dec 9 at 4:10 PM
> 
> From: Clarus.Amicitia@HIM.gov.lux
> 
> To: Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

Son,

I am unsure whether to be impressed by your brashness or disappointed that you would use your sacred charge to obtain favours from His Majesty in matters of a personal nature.

Regardless, you will be teaching basic training to the new City Guard recruits from 6 to 8 am every weekday this summer on top of your usual responsibilities. I can only hope that what you gained in return for that unscrupulous play was worth it.

I expect you home for dinner tonight. Do not be late.

Clarus

 


	279. Chapter 279

> Subject: **Re: New Assignment**
> 
> Wed, Dec 9 at 4:46 PM
> 
> From: Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux
> 
> To: Clarus.Amicitia@HIM.gov.lux

 

Yes, sir. I’ll be there. I apologize for getting you involved in this. I accept the assignment gladly and will fulfill it to the best of my abilities.

Gladiolus

P.S. It was.

 


	280. Chapter 280

> Subject: **Titan’s balls, Prompto, I did it!**
> 
> Wed, Dec 9 at 6:20 PM
> 
> From: tackleandbait@eosmail.com
> 
> To: deadoralive@eosmail.com

 

I wanted to wait until you were done helping at the shelter to call you and brag, but I’m too excited! I did it!

Okay, I probably should tone down the enthusiasm, considering he totally played me and guessed everything. I was really worried because when he understood what it was mostly about, he reacted exactly like I thought he would. He was being all like, big voice, and bushy eyebrows, and ‘this is not right, they must focus on you before all else!’ And I might have shouted at him a bit… that it was all rubbish and the like.

Shit, Prompto… I shouted at my dad. I shouted at the King. I still can’t believe it. I should be grounded for months! But he was just like ‘oh you care, that’s nice.’ And I was O____O, okaaaaaayyyy. What’s happening?

But he still went with the plan, well, with a list of conditions longer than my arm - most to be borne by yours truly. >____<

I’ve agreed to do so many things and I should be really mad, but I’m not and it’s weird. Because I think about how over the moon the two idiots are going to be and I find I don’t mind doing that boring stuff if they can be disgustingly happy together, as long as it’s behind closed doors, because I don’t think I could take the heart eyes and the smooching. #__#

Among other things, I need a part-time job for after school next year. Don’t ask, I don’t get it either. Apparently, it will ‘do me good,’ whatever that’s supposed to mean. Know of any cool places? I don't really want to be waiting tables. At least, find me somewhere I can lean on a counter all evening…

Oh, and I made a mistake. I told Iggy about escaping the frog dissection thing and he was like ‘oh that’s no good, it’s an important practical session, we’ll have to make sure we get you to do it at some point.’ And I was like ‘pffff, where are you even going to find a frog?’ And then he had that really creepy smile and he was all like ‘I have my ways,’ and shit, he’s scary when he wants to.

See you tomorrow for algebra… ugh… tired already.

N.

 


	281. Chapter 281

> Subject: **Everything is so blissfully quiet.**
> 
> Wed, Dec 9 at 9:39 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Good news, my neighbour got swept away by her new conquest for a few days on an impromptu vacation. My floor is empty. It’s blissful.

Sorry to not have replied earlier, I slept like the dead last night. I was exhausted. I didn’t hear my alarm this morning and I was almost late for my appointment with Noct’s tailor. Our Highness has been having a rather ridiculous growth spurt over the past year. I’ve had to order him new suits every three months. Some of the ones we got made last time he hasn’t worn even once.

So anyway, I had to go over to select some fabric and I managed to convince the man to make some of the new suits slightly bigger than Noct’s current measurements. It might sound like a small thing but trust me, I’ve apparently offended the Gods of the Art of Tailoring (sic) many times over with my disparaging requests. I’m pretty sure that man is busy paying a priest of Ifrit to curse me and my hypothetical heirs right now. But enough of that.

I’ve been watering plants and feeding frogs for a good part of the evening for Sania. It’s oddly satisfying to care for them. Their needs are so simple; yet, they take such great joy in fulfilling them. It’s a simpler life. I have no time to have a pet, but I can see the appeal. I do own a couple of thriving Leide cacti though. I think they mostly enjoy me being too busy to ever water them.

You don’t remember those cacti, do you? It was so long ago.

You know that bout of survival training we went on together at the beginning of last year? The one I had to go to as part of the whole physical training plan I have to follow to be able to take Noct places without a full contingent of guards on our heels at all times? It was you, a bunch of new Glaives recruits you’d been training for a while and me. You all knew each other, all shared the same barrack humour, all were enjoying being there; while I could only think of how much work was accumulating on my desk back in Insomnia with each passing second. You were all happy and rowdy, and I was just waiting for it to be over. It was one more box to tick, one more tiresome exercise to go through.

I must have seemed so sullen and moody back then. I didn’t make much effort to break the ice, did I? Who would have thought, we’d end up so close and tangled, darling… Thinking back to that time, it all seems so improbable, so impossible.

Despite all our hardships, I feel like thanking the gods at times - despite knowing they probably didn’t have anything to do with it, the selfish bastards - for bringing us together. It was a tiny chance that could have been blown away so easily. I brought those cacti back with me from those few survival training days we had together. I found one in the sand, and I took it out gently, protected the roots in a damp handkerchief. And you came behind me, made me jump when you leant on my shoulder. I felt silly for letting you see me like this, all careful and sentimental over a tiny plant. But you didn’t laugh, you just pointed to another one, hidden among rocks, and said ‘you’ll want one of those, they make pretty flowers. Only every six months, and only for a couple of days, but they’re pretty.’

I was so blind back then. I should have seen it… when you didn’t laugh at me, when you knew so much about pretty flowers, when you gave advice I hardly deserved. But I didn’t and I know we’re past that now, but I still feel I should apologise for being so unaccommodating. Thank you for making the effort back then, thank you for telling me to bring that small prickly plant with me. I’d never thought I’d look at it with such fondness, simply because it reminds me of you.

It bloomed this morning. As you promised, it made a pretty flower.

I love you,

Blaze

 

 


	282. Chapter 282

 

 

Today at 9:45 AM

[NOCTIS]: Hey, have you told him yet?

[GLADIO]: No. My dad read me the riot act last night. I think we should wait until there's a formal offer on the table

[NOCTIS]: What? What did he say? Are you in trouble?

[GLADIO]: Kinda. I don't know. I think he was pretty surprised that you and I came up with a plan like that. But he said a lot of people are going to be angry about this. What if someone talks His Majesty out of it?

[NOCTIS]: I don’t think so. My dad can be a real hardass but he’s always like ‘your word is your bond, son.’

[NOCTIS]: I think the old families are going to throw a fit, but Iggy can handle that, it’s nothing new.

[NOCTIS]: But I guess we’ll find out soon enough. They should do the paperwork today, so Iggy probably will get the offer tomorrow.

[NOCTIS]: Can’t wait to hear how happy he’s going to be about it. A promotion and a pass for you guys to do your thing, and it’s not even his birthday!

[GLADIO]: Yeah

[GLADIO]: I hope so

[GLADIO]: I have a feeling he might read us the riot act too

[GLADIO]: But that's a price I'm willing to pay

[GLADIO]: You ready for a tough one this afternoon? I think it's time to teach you how to handle a mace without bashing your own brains in

[NOCTIS]: I swear to Ramuh, Gladio, you two better have the schmaltziest romance ever after all that.

[NOCTIS]: Just don’t give me any details. I beg you. Iggy’s smile when he looks at you is creepy enough as it is. I don’t need to be traumatised further.

[NOCTIS]: And bring it on, we’ll see who bashes whose brains out. :P

 


	283. Chapter 283

> Subject: **All this time you were only a tent away**
> 
> Thu, Dec 10 at 6:55 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

It’s quiet here too. Iris and I are eating takeaway noodles at the kitchen table, blessed informality after last night. I hate having to dress for dinner. It takes all my restraint not to keep tugging at the top button of my collar (the Gods of Tailoring insist on giving me one fashionably fitted against my neck no matter how I plead for something loose and comfortable). And when my father is here Jared insists on a full seven-course meal that drags on for hours. I saw your email pop up on my phone when I glanced at it surreptitiously under the table, but by the time we were done I was too worn out to reply. We finished eating around ten and then Iris was sent off to bed and the cognac came out and by Shiva, you probably haven’t ever heard my father utter more than a handful of words, he’s usually as silent and unmoving as the Rock of Ravatogh, but when that man gets going you won’t hear the end of it until he’s good and done. My ears are still burning.

I remember that trip. You brought armfuls of paperwork. I didn’t know then how heavy your workload is, and I thought you were just making an excuse to be apart from the group. Of course paperwork is a terrible idea for camping. You kept having to search for rocks to weight down the stacks, and every time you lifted a rock to move something, all your papers tried to fly away. The rest of us were sitting around the fire telling stupid jokes, and I could see why you wanted to be on your own. You looked so serious, I couldn’t imagine anything would make you smile. After a strong gust of wind and a particularly fractious struggle, you put your hand to your face, and I thought you were frustrated or upset. Then I saw you were laughing.

(Iris wants me to tell you that she says hi. She figured out a while ago that we were still writing to each other and I didn’t have the heart to lie. She says the moogles say hi too. She’s established a little fiefdom for them among her books and stuffed animals. They reign from atop a pillow, beaming in each other’s wooly arms. Pretty cute.)

It’s a lovely flower. When I see it I think of that laughter blooming on your face, and I do remember now leaning over you to point out the cactus hidden in the rocks. I should have made more of an effort to get to know you then. I should have seen what that laugh revealed—your hidden depths. Thank you for opening up to me. Like the flower, you were slow to open—and the wait has been infinitely worthwhile.

My sweetest love, I never pray to our cruel and distant gods, but tonight I pray to hold you in my arms soon. Remember how much I love you. Whatever I’ve done has been with only the best intentions, and I know intentions mean little, but—whatever I’ve done, I’ve done it for you.

Your Behemoth

 


	284. Chapter 284

> Subject: **Your words seem to foreshadow a storm.**
> 
> Thu, Dec 10 at 9:53 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Your letter has me rather worried. Are you okay? What’s going on?

I’ve read it so many times and as beautiful and loving as your words are - as always - it has left me wondering… Why was your father giving you such a lecture? What did you do? Tell me you didn’t get yourself in trouble.

And your last paragraph makes it clear that whatever this is, it has everything to do with me. Oh love, why didn’t you say anything?

I don’t dare to ring you without knowing more about the state of affairs you find yourself into. It’s not like you to be so cryptic. I know how forward and honest you are. I feel like walls are collapsing around us under a malevolent and unknown force, and there’s nowhere left to hide.

Write back, darling. Tell me what we’re facing. If we’re not safe, I must know about it.

I’ve told you before I trust you. Do not hide this for me; whatever is happening, we can figure it out together.

I love you. Yours, always,

Blaze

 


	285. Chapter 285

 

 

 

(Above is a sealed envelope addressed to Dr Ignis Scientia, Tutor of His Royal Highness, Secretary of the Royal Council. It is stamped "Hand Delivery," "Eyes Only," and "Confidential." The envelope is wrapped with a red ribbon affixed with a wax seal bearing the crest of the Royal Family of Lucis, an ornate skull insignia in profile.)

 


	286. Chapter 286

 

 

Today at 10:08 AM

[IGNIS]: [Picture of envelope with open official seal]

[IGNIS]: Is there something you want to say to me?

[GLADIO]: Iggy

[GLADIO]: I'm so sorry

[GLADIO]: I wanted to tell you

[GLADIO]: But it was such a long shot

[IGNIS]: That’s it. That’s your excuse?

[IGNIS]: ‘Sorry, love, I was playing lottery with your life work. I thought it was better if you didn’t realise what I was doing.’

[GLADIO]: I deserve that

[GLADIO]: You’re right

[GLADIO]: I took a risk that wasn't mine to take

[GLADIO]: And I knew I was risking your respect and your love too

[IGNIS]: I thought you knew me better than that.

[IGNIS]: I’m not accepting a promotion I haven’t earned but been given because my - forgive the shorthand - boyfriend thought it appropriate to use his privilege and influence in that way.

[IGNIS]: I love you, Gladio, I really do. But not enough to sacrifice the principles I’ve built my career, my life, on.

[GLADIO]: I didn't! I swear. All I did was give Noct the tools he needed to make it happen on his own. And he was brilliant, Iggy, you would have been proud of him. He argued for it in a formal audience and he used the logic and strategy you’ve taught him. It wasn't a child’s appeal to a father. It was a young leader growing into his strength.

[GLADIO]: And you’ve made him the man he is. You have earned this.

[IGNIS]: You got Noct involved in this too?

[IGNIS]: I can’t believe you… I never wanted Noct to have to worry about me like this. He has more than enough to deal with. He could have gotten into serious trouble with His Majesty.

[IGNIS]: And you risked all that, me, Noct…

[IGNIS]: I get you did it for me. For us, more accurately. But I’m sorry, Gladio. I can’t thank you for it.

[IGNIS]: I never thought I’d say this, but I need space.

[IGNIS]: Hopefully that’s one wish you’ll respect.

[GLADIO]: I will

[GLADIO]: But first I'm going to say one more thing

[GLADIO]: I know you don't want Noct to worry about you

[GLADIO]: But it isn't fair of you to ask that of him. He's not just your liege, Ignis. He's your friend. And he loves you. Shutting him out of your life isn't doing him any favors. Did you think he couldn't see how miserable you've been for months? He's not a little kid anymore. It's time we started letting him take some risks of his own. And I hope you can set aside your feelings about this enough to at least tell him you're proud of him. He cared enough about you to stand up to his father in a formal audience and he WON.

[GLADIO]: That's all

[GLADIO]: I love you

[GLADIO]: I'll be here if you want to talk

 


	287. Chapter 287

> Subject: **Titan’s fuckin dick tbh**
> 
> Fri, Dec 11 at 4:17 PM
> 
> From: deadoralive@eosmail.com
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com

 

Hey buddy, I know we talked about it yesterday but I wanted to offer my formal congratulations because THIS IS BIG. I know I tease you about the prince stuff sometimes but I’m really impressed, you know? Remember when I talked you into writing letters for that chocobo conservation drive a while back and you said, how do I have the energy for volunteering and clubs and all that junk? What you did for Iggy was incredible. Like, sorry to get all super sincere on you but I had to say it. I’m pretty sure it took way more energy for you to do that than it takes me to write a few letters or walk the shelter dogs on my afternoons off. You said he was gonna get the letter today, right? What did he say???

Anyway, I saw an ad in the paper for that sushi place with the awesome karaage. They’re looking for dishwashers which sounds pretty chill. No dealing with crazy customers. Wanna go down there with me tomorrow and we’ll apply together? It can’t be worse than dissecting frogs and we could use the extra money for that new bushido game Iggy wouldn’t let you buy cause it’s too gory. We can keep it at my house!!!!!

 


	288. Chapter 288

 

 

Today at 11:38 PM

[IGNIS]: Tell me something.

[GLADIO]: Yeah?

[IGNIS]: Why did you hide it from me?

[IGNIS]: Don’t sugarcoat it. I’m not asking you to spare my feelings. But I need you to tell me.

[IGNIS]: When I’ve told you time and time again that I trust you. When you knew what that means to me…

[GLADIO]: Because I knew you would say no

[GLADIO]: And yeah. I know how fucked up that sounds. I don't have an excuse.

[IGNIS]: That doesn’t sound like you. Not unless I was wrong about you all along.

[IGNIS]: And I don’t want to believe that.

[GLADIO]: Sania was worried about you. And she came up with the idea. But I could have turned her down. I didn't because I've been worried about you too. So has Noct.

[GLADIO]: As much as you seem to think that you're all alone, you aren't, Iggy. You have friends who care about you dearly.

[GLADIO]: But I don't think Sania or Noct really understood how hurt you would be that we went behind your back. I did. And I did it anyway.

[IGNIS]: I see.

[IGNIS]: Thank you for your honesty. This time, at least.

 


	289. Chapter 289

 

Saturday, December 12

 

It’s been a long time since I’ve written to you, hasn’t it?

I don’t regret what I’ve done. I knew I’d pay a price and I pay it willingly. I still think I did the right thing. But I understand why Ignis wouldn’t agree. I empathize with how he must be feeling so much that I can’t even explain myself to him. I can imagine how hollow my words must sound. Just another one of those jerks who’s betrayed him. I’d need someone with his brains to argue my case, but I don’t want to defend myself. I don’t want to make excuses. Either he forgives me or he doesn’t. All I can do now is be patient and hope he understands me as well as I understand him. I think he does. But I’ve hurt him.

I have to stop thinking about it. The more I do, I realize I’m just going round in circles. I went for a walk this morning to clear my head, which turned out to be a terrible idea. I decided I’d go down to the farmer's market and get something to eat. (Remember when you used to take me there? We’d eat fried chickpeas and watch the seagulls?) I didn’t see what a terrible idea it was until I was already on the waterfront. The weather was beautiful for this time of year. I walked past the café where I shared a piece of cake with him once, and all the outdoor tables were full of couples leaning towards each other over cups of coffee. I walked past the berry stall and I remembered when he made Altissian toast that golden morning and fed me berries with his fingers. We couldn’t stop laughing. Everywhere I looked was another reminder. I was so desperate to keep him. What if the actions my desperation drove me to have lost him forever?

But there’s no sense in dwelling on it. I know you would say that. What’s done is done.

Had dinner with Dad the other night. It makes me uneasy to see how gray his hair has gone. I’m taller than him now. I can’t help but feel now that I’m an adult I ought to make more of an effort to get to know him. Who knows how many years we have left? He means well, I can see that. And I probably haven’t made it easy for him. I think I blamed him a little, irrationally, for being the one to stay when you were gone. I’m too old now for such childishness. Maybe I’ll suggest a hunting trip, just the two of us, if he can get away for a night. He might enjoy that—for the chance to sleep under the stars, if nothing else.

I miss you. Iris looks more and more like you every day.

With all my love,

Your Gladiolus

 


	290. Chapter 290

 

 

Today at 3:19 PM

[IGNIS]: You know… I think you lied to me again. To spare my feelings even though I told you not to.

[IGNIS]: Hard to be angry at you about that though.

[GLADIO]: Iggy, what? When?

[IGNIS]: You were not worried about me saying ‘no’ to your proposal. You were worried I wouldn’t listen to it at all. I wouldn’t let you explain and I would shut you down, telling you it’s too risky and to stop being ridiculous, without even considering what you were offering.

[GLADIO]: Well, I… I mean yeah, I guess that's true, but it's kinda the same thing isn't it?

[IGNIS]: Not from where I’m standing, no.

[IGNIS]: One is you making decisions for me because you think you know best and that my opinion is wrong because it doesn’t match yours.

[IGNIS]: The other is me being my usual insufferable self and not giving you a chance.

[IGNIS]: And as much as I don’t appreciate being lied to - even by omission, the idea that you felt you couldn’t talk to me hurts more.

[IGNIS]: Especially considering you were probably right about it.

[GLADIO]: Oh Iggy I'm sorry

[GLADIO]: I'm an idiot

[GLADIO]: It was just… it seemed like our only chance. And every time I tried to write to you about it, I stopped myself. Because I would imagine you reading my email and immediately texting Noct to forbid it

[GLADIO]: If we could have talked it over in person…

[GLADIO]: Don’t you dare blame yourself. This was something I chose to do and the responsibility lies with me.

[IGNIS]: I’m not trying to assign blame. I’m trying to understand what led to this.

[IGNIS]: Because it’s likely going to colour how I feel about it in the end.

[IGNIS]: Let’s leave it at that for now. Guess where I am.

[GLADIO]: Um

[GLADIO]: My balcony?

[IGNIS]: No. I’m still angry at you.

[IGNIS]: [picture of park bench]

[IGNIS]: I wanted to think here for a while but the wind is really cold. I should have brought a bigger coat.

[GLADIO]: Brrr. I hope you have a hot cup of coffee

[GLADIO]: It was nicer before the stormclouds rolled in. I walked past the art gallery this morning where we went on our date

[GLADIO]: There's a new exhibit up. Pop art. Diner memorabilia and stuff like that. They had a painting of an Ebony can in the window. I thought of you

[IGNIS]: I should have gone to the coffee shop. But I wanted to be alone. And then I got here, and I started thinking… Finally alone. And instead of enjoying it, all I could think was how much I wanted to talk to you. Despite still being angry. Despite knowing I probably have no right to be.

[IGNIS]: You’ve always confused my thinking… always. From those very first few letters, remember? You always make me feel things I’m not prepared for.

[IGNIS]: But that I like mostly. The past day or so notwithstanding.

[GLADIO]: You have a right to be angry

[GLADIO]: But you still love me anyway

[GLADIO]: That's why it's confusing

[GLADIO]: I'm glad we're talking, Iggy. I always miss you when we aren't

[IGNIS]: I miss you too.

[IGNIS]: But I still don’t know what to do about this whole situation. It feels wrong.

[IGNIS]: I need to think. Let’s talk again tomorrow.

[IGNIS]: And I do love you. Always.

[GLADIO]: You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that

[GLADIO]: I love you

[GLADIO]: I'll be here

 


	291. Chapter 291

 

**Authors' Note**

 

Hi everyone,

We both had to stop reading the comments several weeks ago because we found that responding to complaints about the direction of the story was inhibiting our creativity and interfering with our ability to write multiple chapters on a daily basis. This shouldn't have to be said, but we are two human beings writing this story, not content machines.

It's been brought to our attention that the negativity in comments is still a problem. Understandably, people don't want to engage with it, but multiple readers have expressed their concerns to us and we don't like knowing that the comments section of our story is turning into a place where people who love Classified are feeling uncomfortable and harassed.

If you are no longer enjoying Classified, there's no need to continuously comment and tell us so. If you can't find something nice to say, we suggest you stop reading and commenting. We have much better things to do with our time than moderate comments, but going forward, we will delete any comments that don't have something positive to say, including those that wish harm on our characters or are telling us that you hate a particular character.

While constructive criticism is okay, this is our story that we are sharing freely and in good faith with those who want to enjoy it. It represents thousands of hours of our own work and our own lives. We have no obligation to allow anyone’s negativity to permeate and soil a creation we love. And you have no obligation to read it if you’re not enjoying it.

To everyone who's been leaving lovely, thoughtful comments, thank you so much, and we truly do apologize that we haven't been able to respond to them for the reasons mentioned above. But do know that we appreciate you and we're very grateful for the positive feedback.

And now back to the story!

 

_—1000 Needles and Sekiei_

 


	292. Chapter 292

 

 

Today at 7:03 PM

[NOCTIS]: This morning’s booooooooring reception didn’t seem like the place to ask, but I’m surprised you haven’t said anything during tuition. I nearly asked but you would have said I had promised to work and I wouldn’t weasel my way out of it.

[IGNIS]: It’s complicated, Noct.

[NOCTIS]: And you’re not even pretending not to know what I’m talking about.

[NOCTIS]: No ‘be clearer, Noctis,’ ‘stop assuming everyone can read minds as well as I do, Noctis’?

[IGNIS]: Look at that. I’ve lectured you so efficiently I’ve become redundant. You’re doing it all by yourself.

[NOCTIS]: Yeah, except I don’t feel that crawling dread along my back that’s always there when it’s you.

[IGNIS]: Never seems to stop you from not listening.

[NOCTIS]: I listen. Most of the time.

[IGNIS]: Some of the time.

[NOCTIS]: Whatever.

[NOCTIS]: Damn it, I can’t believe it.

[IGNIS]: What?

[NOCTIS]: You’ve managed to sidetrack me for a good five minutes already and I hadn’t even realised. HOW do you do that?

[IGNIS]: Skill.

[NOCTIS]: Riiiiight.

[IGNIS]: Knowing you better than you know yourself helps too.

[NOCTIS]: Bullshit.

[IGNIS]: Want to test it?

[NOCTIS]: Bring it on! What’s it gonna be, 100 questions?

[IGNIS]: Sure.

[NOCTIS]: Wait. No. You’re doing it again! Damn, I hate you. Stop doing that, you know we never get anywhere if you do that. Just stop doing that.

[IGNIS]: Fine. I guess I owe you that.

[NOCTIS]: Damn, right, you do!

[NOCTIS]: Wait, what? What did Gladio tell you?

[IGNIS]: Something about you being all mature, and what a great leader you were becoming and how you took on your own father for my sake and ‘won.’ His word.

[NOCTIS]: Shit, he said that?

[IGNIS]: Indeed.

[NOCTIS]: See. He respects me now!

[IGNIS]: He does. Do you see now how respect is different from obedience or service? Can you feel it?

[NOCTIS]: Yeah. You were right. You’re always right.

[IGNIS]: Not always.

[NOCTIS]: Oh bullshit, Iggy. Nearly always.

[NOCTIS]: Aaaaand you sidetracked us again. I thought you said you’d stop.

[IGNIS]: My apologies.

[NOCTIS]: You didn’t look happy this morning. I thought you’d be happy?

[IGNIS]: As I said, it’s complicated.

[NOCTIS]: Why? It solves everything.

[IGNIS]: It’s a huge responsibility, Noct. It’s not something one just says ‘yes’ to without proper reflection.

[NOCTIS]: Hm. I guess you wouldn’t.

[IGNIS]: No-one would.

[NOCTIS]: Most people are not like you, Iggy.

[IGNIS]: You don’t say.

[NOCTIS]: So what? You’re scared?

[IGNIS]: I suppose that’s one way of putting it.

[NOCTIS]: But what about Gladio? Don’t you want to be with him?

[IGNIS]: I do. But my duty has never yielded to my personal life, and it’s not going to start now.

[IGNIS]: But thank you, Noct. I know it must not have been easy for you. It was a brave thing to do.

[IGNIS]: I know you did it for me, and I’m grateful. Do not take my hesitation personally. I must think of it all with a clear head. I owe His Majesty that much.

[NOCTIS]: I guess.

[NOCTIS]: But I hope you say ‘yes.’ You’ve been gloomy lately. It’s not good for anyone.

[IGNIS]: Noted, Highness.

[NOCTIS]: Well, I’ll leave you to your reflections then.

[IGNIS]: Noct.

[NOCTIS]: Yeah?

[IGNIS]: You know I’m proud of you, right?

[NOCTIS]: Yeah. Yeah, I do. Thanks, Iggy.

[IGNIS]: You’re welcome. I really appreciate all you did.

[NOCTIS]: It’s okay. I’m glad if I could help.

[IGNIS]: Good night, Highness.

[NOCTIS]: Good night, Iggy.

 


	293. Chapter 293

 

 

Today at 11:01 AM

[IGNIS]: Is now a good time?

[GLADIO]: Yes! Guess where I am?

[IGNIS]: Did you go to our bench too? Funny how it’s ‘our’ bench when we’ve never been there together.

[GLADIO]: I'm going to kiss you on that bench someday

[GLADIO]: No. I didn't want to disturb you if you were there

[GLADIO]: Training room. Totally deserted. No one is ever here on Sunday. I just went eight rounds with the bag and I need a break

[GLADIO]: Hang on, let me make a nest in the yoga blankets

[GLADIO]: OK. All yours

[IGNIS]: I want to have that conversation, we’ve never had.

[IGNIS]: I need you to convince me this is the right thing to do. Because I’ve tried, but I can’t shake the feeling that the morality of this whole affair is dubious.

[IGNIS]: But I want to hear your side of things. I want to listen to what you have to say.

[GLADIO]: I'm going to convince Ignis Scientia of something? Oof. You know I love a challenge, but that's a big ask

[GLADIO]: I'm glad I warmed up first

[GLADIO]: Help me understand what's bothering you. I told you I didn't call in any favors. It was something Noct wanted to do for you, he just needed to be shown how

[IGNIS]: Oh darling, you both very much used the privilege you were born with to obtain what you wanted, and Shiva have mercy on my soul for its unapologetic infatuation with you, but the fact that you can’t see it is almost cute.

[IGNIS]: But we can work on that later, it takes time.

[IGNIS]: You know that as soon as this thing between us comes out, every single member of court is going to assume I got that new position as a reward for sleeping with you.

[IGNIS]: And right now, I’m hard pressed to convince myself that they’ll be wrong to assume that.

[IGNIS]: Noct was worried about us. And yes, he asked, and His Majesty obliged. But as hard as he can be on his son sometimes, His Majesty has never squandered an opportunity to dote on him when he could afford to.

[IGNIS]: None of this makes me worthy of that title.

[GLADIO]: Okay. I couldn't have done it without my privileged relationship with Noct. I grant you that

[GLADIO]: But you don't give yourself enough credit

[GLADIO]: Do you really think there's anyone in this court who doesn't know how brilliant you are? If anything, you’ve been unfairly held back because of your birth.

[GLADIO]: Do you honestly believe you don't deserve this? That you aren't the best damned strategist our country has? Our best shot at surviving this war?

[IGNIS]: Do I believe I’m a better strategist than everyone else over the past six hundred years who didn’t get that title? No, darling, I don’t. I’m nineteen in a couple of months, there are limits to my ego.

[IGNIS]: And yes, maybe the war changes things, and I would be able to work more efficiently being able to bypass the administration and the military hierarchy whenever I need to. But I’m not the only talented strategist the Crown has, and it seems unfair of me to be thus advantaged.

[IGNIS]: I even worry it will give too much influence to my opinion. And it might surprise you, love, but I’ve been known to be wrong. Balance in all things is good. And I don’t know if I trust myself without a counterweight.

[GLADIO]: Tell me this. If Insomnia were attacked tomorrow, who would you want at the head of military strategy? You, or someone else? Name me one person you’d rather have planning our city's defense.

[IGNIS]: Are you calling me arrogant?

[GLADIO]: Are you joking? Of course I'm not! I grew up around those idiots on the Council. Sure, some of them have good instincts. Most of them are inbred, elderly fools who couldn't protect us from this war thirty years ago, much less now.

[GLADIO]: I know a little something about protecting people. And I know who I’d want to be giving His Majesty advice if we found the Empire outside our Wall, gods forbid it ever be so.

[IGNIS]: Yes, darling, I was joking. But thank you for the vote of confidence.

[IGNIS]: I don’t know how to do this. Accepting something I haven’t fought for. It feels like a hand-me-down. I know we’re talking about a most prestigious position and yet… it doesn’t feel right to just have it offered and to only have to say ‘yes.’ It feels like a trap.

[IGNIS]: Nothing has ever been that simple until now. I want to believe you that it’s okay, that I can accept that offer on its own merits. But it’s hard.

[IGNIS]: Am I wary? Prideful? I don’t know anymore.

[GLADIO]: Sorry Iggy

[GLADIO]: I got excited

[GLADIO]: But you do have my vote, you know

[GLADIO]: Have you talked to Noct about it?

[IGNIS]: I did. Told him I was proud of him. And that I had to think about it, that it was a big decision. I think he was somewhat disappointed but he understood. I didn’t want to hurt him.

[GLADIO]: Oh I'm glad you told him that

[GLADIO]: I'm proud of him too

[GLADIO]: And you know, as much as he loves you, he understands what a waste it would be to squander your talents on picking up after him for the rest of your life

[GLADIO]: It's interesting, Iggy, how you insist it's even possible to succeed on talent alone in a system built on inherited power

[GLADIO]: You’re so wary of taking advantage of my privilege, of Noct's. But this isn't a meritocracy. Why are you worrying about those assholes at court? You know you deserve this, you’ve earned this, far more than any of them ever have or ever will.

[GLADIO]: What about the kids like you? The ones who didn't grow up at court? The ones who spent their infancy outside the Wall? The ones who arrived in Insomnia and learned they’d be scrubbing toilets or shoveling stables, no matter what their talents are?

[GLADIO]: Who gives a damn what the court thinks. You’d be an inspiration to those kids.

[IGNIS]: This… I didn’t really think about it like that. But it’s a good point.

[IGNIS]: How do you do that? Always know exactly what I need to hear?

[IGNIS]: But you’re contradicting yourself. The only way those kids can have hope is if this can be a meritocracy if you work at it hard enough. Otherwise, they are stuck where they are.

[IGNIS]: This is what I want them to see… that I got where I am by treating the system as a meritocracy every step of the way, by using my own talents, by proving myself so far above the competition that it denied that screwed up system any possibility not to recognise my merits. No matter how well-born and privileged the competition was.

[IGNIS]: And this is where this hurts. Because you might be right, and maybe I deserve this. But I haven’t earned it, and it’s a fundamental difference.

[IGNIS]: One that affects my legitimacy in the eyes of the world.

[GLADIO]: I understand how you feel, Iggy. I really do

[GLADIO]: But you told me to convince you, so I'm going to keep arguing

[GLADIO]: Stop me if I'm crossing a line here

[GLADIO]: You're contradicting yourself, too.

[IGNIS]: Am I, now?

[GLADIO]: You said everyone would assume you got the position because of who you were sleeping with. How do you think the rest of the court got their titles? That's exactly how. Some courtesan a hundred years ago managed to get himself titled and passed it down to his grandchildren. A clever bourgeoisie family married into the aristocracy. Go back further. The line of descent is messy as hell. Even look at the Caelums, I know I'm skirting treason to say it, but I'm speaking the truth. Earning a Lucian title has always been about who you're sleeping with. I'd be prouder of deserving it, if I were you.

[GLADIO]: What did I ever do to deserve mine? Just got born to the right father, that's all. You've accomplished something much more impressive and you've done it on merit, no matter how you insist you haven't. His Majesty loves his son, yeah. But he's not giving you a title for Noct's benefit or mine, and you know it.

[IGNIS]: No, he’s giving me a title so he can make me work more. His Majesty is pragmatic.

[IGNIS]: Which is another worry, I have. Because little - except his affection for his son - would stop him from pulling me away from Noct if he wanted to.

[IGNIS]: As for the sleeping around, you might be right on principle; but the notion that a world like ours would judge you and your peers the same way it judges people like me is fanciful. Regardless, I was rather proud not to never have resorted to that kind of intrigue for my advancement. I guess I’m more prideful than all of you nobles after all.

[GLADIO]: By far, love. And I adore you for it. Don't ever change.

[IGNIS]: You’re telling me to say ‘yes’ to a position well above what I should rationally aspire to, and yet, are also asking me not to change. You do love your contradictions, darling.

[IGNIS]: Let me think some more on this.

 


	294. Chapter 294

 

 

(Above is a photograph of two full glasses of beer on a bar counter.)

 


	295. Chapter 295

 

 

Today at 2:35 PM

[IGNIS]: Where are you now?

[GLADIO]: Tavern. Chocobo races. Don't worry, I've only had half a beer. I'm still capable of a convincing argument, contradictions notwithstanding.

[GLADIO]: But I'm going to take the phone outside to the patio, hang on

[GLADIO]: Ok. Wedged between a bunch of crates where no one can see me. Fuck it's cold out here. Where are you?

[IGNIS]: Library. My flat got kind of oppressive.

[GLADIO]: Mm. What are you wearing?

[IGNIS]: A frown at your impertinence.

[IGNIS]: But you did make me smile. Thank you.

[GLADIO]: You're welcome, love. You know how I feel about libraries. And you. But I'll be serious.

[IGNIS]: I’ve been thinking… maybe I am too prideful indeed.

[IGNIS]: But it’s hard at times to always have to be given everything and to have to respectfully accept it, you know. To be grateful, to make a show of deference, like it’s expected… Despite the fact that you’ve never had a choice about it in the first place, that there’s no alternative but that obsequious route. It’s always down to the goodwill of your ‘betters.’

[IGNIS]: Damn, I hate that term.

[GLADIO]: Maybe that’s what I didn't understand the first time you explained it. It makes more sense when you put it this way. You don't want to have to feel grateful for the position… you want to feel it's rightfully yours?

[IGNIS]: Yes, I suppose that’s one way of putting it. To feel like I’ve earned it in some way, that I belong there without questions. That such an assignment wasn’t down to someone’s fancy, but became evident through my own work.

[IGNIS]: Lots of wishful thinking with little basis in reality, darling.

[IGNIS]: And yet, it still matters somehow.

[GLADIO]: Of course it does.

[GLADIO]: Is this the first time you've been given a choice in your career path? Since that time when you were a child, I mean?

[IGNIS]: Hmm, I suppose so. Until now my career choices were mostly my education choices. And the whole secretary of the Council gig was mostly a way to support Noctis better by being aware of current political events. It wasn’t quite the same.

[IGNIS]: It was always about supporting Noctis. All of it. This feels different. And I’m not sure I like it.

[IGNIS]: At least, my uncle will be pleased. Which might sound like a good thing but really isn’t. My uncle liking anything has always been a warning flag.

[IGNIS]: I don’t think I’ve told you about him, have I?

[GLADIO]: I didn't even know you have an uncle.

[IGNIS]: I spend most of my time trying to forget I do. We don’t get along.

[IGNIS]: His side of the family has been serving as low-ranking civil servants at the citadel for three or four generations. They think themselves so much better than ‘country-bumpkins’ like my parents.

[IGNIS]: My dad told me Insomnia would be okay because his brother would look after me, that blood ties were important everywhere.

[IGNIS]: Looking after me turned out to be trying to teach me to be ashamed of my origins, he told me I could never tell anyone that my parents were crofters, that people would judge me for it, that I would never amount to anything if I didn’t try to fit in and pretend I was from the city like him.

[IGNIS]: I was quite stubborn even as a small kid. I told him he didn’t understand anything and he was a bad man. He told me I could become a nobody without his help.

[IGNIS]: He reached out when I was officially named as Noct’s tutor. Probably thought he could get something out of it. I told him I didn’t want to talk to him.

[IGNIS]: Anyway… his opinion has never mattered to me. But I’m wary of anything he might approve of. It’s a learnt behaviour by this point.

[GLADIO]: Ugh. Wouldn't he be pleased to know you were dating the Prince’s Shield? I can see why you recoiled when you found out who Behemoth was.

[IGNIS]: I didn’t really think about it to be honest. He’s an asshole. But it’s probably in part why undeserved favours seem so distasteful to me.

[IGNIS]: Let me think about it a bit more. I need some coffee.

[IGNIS]: I love you.

[GLADIO]: Love you too. Enjoy your coffee.

 


	296. Chapter 296

 

 

(Above is a photograph of a cappuccino on a table. A sign nearby reads, "Custom Cakes for any Occasion.)

 


	297. Chapter 297

 

 

Today at 5:41 PM

[GLADIO]: Are you still at the coffee shop?

[IGNIS]: No. I’ve been doing inventory for the refugee support fund. People are generous but sorting it all out, figuring what can truly be useful and to who takes time and manpower. It’s easy but useful work. And it gives me time to think.

[IGNIS]: I’m done for today though. I was closing the warehouse when I got your text. The waterfront is pretty at this time, so many seagulls and the sun is already starting to set.

[IGNIS]: Anyway… what can I do for you?

[GLADIO]: I have one more argument to make.

[IGNIS]: I’m listening.

[GLADIO]: Remember last week, when I got sick?

[IGNIS]: I hope that question is rhetorical. It was a week ago, darling. Yes, I do.

[GLADIO]: Play nice, Iggy, I'm being serious.

[GLADIO]: Remember how worried you were? Remember how you dropped everything to be at my side?

[IGNIS]: Of course, I do. What has that to do with anything?

[GLADIO]: What could I do if something ever happened to you?

[IGNIS]: What do you mean?

[GLADIO]: Being there for me was so important to you that you broke your own rules. And I only had a cold.

[GLADIO]: If something happened to you, it would kill me if I couldn't be there for you.

[IGNIS]: I get that, love. Thank you. But I fail to see how that’s an argument.

[IGNIS]: Are you saying I should take our relationship into consideration when thinking about that position?

[GLADIO]: Yes

[GLADIO]: And don't think I can't imagine the expression on your face right now

[GLADIO]: I know you hate that idea

[GLADIO]: I know you want to keep your personal life as far from your career decisions as possible

[GLADIO]: And that's why I haven't brought it up till now

[GLADIO]: But I can't keep quiet. It matters.

[IGNIS]: Have you got any idea how difficult it’s been looking at all this with a clear head?

[IGNIS]: I think of you and I just want to give in and forget everything, everything that has always mattered until now, because it means you can be mine. I want nothing more but to give myself permission to be selfish.

[IGNIS]: But I can’t.

[IGNIS]: It’s not how the world works. Not in our times anyway.

[IGNIS]: Duty and my ability to fulfil it must always prevail. As bitter as it is.

[GLADIO]: Ignis

[GLADIO]: Sweet love

[GLADIO]: You asked me once to tell you if you were overthinking

[GLADIO]: You are.

[GLADIO]: You’ve been denying yourself for so long, you won't allow yourself to believe this is the solution we've been looking for since the beginning

[GLADIO]: This is it. You don't have to give up your duty. And you don't have to give me up either

[GLADIO]: Please. Just this once in your life, let yourself have something because you want it. Because you want me. Because we need each other. Because I want to stand at your side whatever happens. I need you, Iggy. And you need me. There's nothing wrong with admitting that. It doesn't make you weak or irrational. It makes you human.

[IGNIS]: Human, you say? I don’t remember that quality ever being mentioned during my training.

[IGNIS]: I’m tired, love. I don’t know what I’m fighting anymore. I don’t know why I’m fighting.

[IGNIS]: I just know it all feels risky and overwhelming and like there has to be a catch but I can’t see it.

[IGNIS]: And it swirls and swirls in my mind and I look harder and it’s all tied prettily in a bow and all my instincts are telling me to be wary, that nothing that good would come without a steep price to pay.

[IGNIS]: And I’m not getting anywhere. I don’t know what to do.

[IGNIS]: So I guess this is it, isn’t it? This is where my trust in you is put to the test and I realise whether it’s true or whether I was lying to myself all along.

[IGNIS]: I will do it for you, darling. If you want me to. I will accept their offer and believe it’s okay to do so because you told me it is. And that’s enough, that’s more than enough for me.

[GLADIO]: I promise it is. I love you, Ignis. I'll do everything I can to be worthy of your trust.

[GLADIO]: And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I should have trusted you, too.

[GLADIO]: Can you forgive me?

[IGNIS]: I already have.

[IGNIS]: I get why you did what you did. Our circumstances were… let’s say ‘difficult.’

[IGNIS]: But things are going to be different from now on. So promise me, this won’t happen again.

[IGNIS]: Promise me this was the last time you did something like that without talking to me first.

[IGNIS]: I promise I’ll listen and let you explain in return.

[GLADIO]: I swear it. You have my word.

[IGNIS]: We’ll have to be careful when on duty though. No one is going to cut us any slack.

[IGNIS]: But our private hours will be our own, and I can’t wait.

[IGNIS]: We can’t relax though. Not until everything is signed and recorded. Nothing is done until this happens. That offer letter I got is not binding.

[GLADIO]: My heart is racing

[GLADIO]: When will it be signed?

[GLADIO]: When can I see you?

[IGNIS]: I don’t know. I’ll send my answer tomorrow. It usually takes a few days.

[IGNIS]: Hopefully by next weekend it will all be sorted.

[IGNIS]: I know you’re happy. I am too. But tell me you understand that we still have to be careful for now.

[IGNIS]: Tell me.

[GLADIO]: My sweet love

[GLADIO]: You know I'd give anything to be standing at your door right now

[GLADIO]: But I've waited this long, and I'll wait for as much longer as you need me to.

[IGNIS]: As long as you understand how cautious we have to be...

[IGNIS]: You know, since the weather turned so cold, there was no one else at the park yesterday the whole time I was there.

[IGNIS]: The wind has gotten worse since. And it’s getting late.

[IGNIS]: It’d be easy enough to make sure the alleys are empty on your way to that alcove.

[IGNIS]: In case you wanted to kiss me on that bench today.

[GLADIO]: Blaze

[GLADIO]: I have to put the phone down or I'm going to start crying

[GLADIO]: Lacing on my running shoes. I'll be there in fifteen minutes.

[IGNIS]: I’ll be waiting.

 


	298. Chapter 298

 

 

(Above is a gif of snow falling onto tree branches.)

 


	299. Chapter 299

 

 

Today at 10:39 AM

[IGNIS]: Dice are cast, darling.

[GLADIO]: You gave them your letter of acceptance?

[IGNIS]: I did. Then I went straight to the roof and have been looking at the sky for the past half hour trying to figure out what I am feeling. I have seven minutes left before I need to be in the Council chambers and I’m still no closer.

[IGNIS]: But the thought of you makes me happy. That’s a constant and it’s comforting.

[GLADIO]: Can I write you a letter while you're in session?

[GLADIO]: Can we still do that?

[IGNIS]: Please, darling. Of course, we can.

[IGNIS]: I never want us to stop writing. Remember what you told me? ‘It’s your words I fell in love with, Ignis.’ Maybe I’m sentimental, or superstitious, but I want that pure exchange of words to always be a part of us.

[IGNIS]: Spoken words, of course. And I can’t wait to hear your voice, your breath caressing my skin as you whisper in my ear, again. But I want all of you. All of it. And that includes your letters. I want more. You make me unreasonable and greedy, darling. I want all you’ll give me from here on. And I can’t wait to read what you have to say.

[IGNIS]: But I must run. Being late right after sending that answer would leave a poor impression.

[IGNIS]: I love you.

[GLADIO]: I love you. My letter will be waiting for you when you're done.

 


	300. Chapter 300

> Subject: **Your words are a part of me, now and forever**
> 
> Mon, Dec 14 at 12:51 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Dear Blaze,

It’s weird. I feel almost nervous, writing this. As if all our other emails were a stage rehearsal, and this is the first real love letter I’ve written you. Where to start? What to say? I’m as tongue-tied as if it’s our first meeting. Remember so long ago when we spun our fantasies of meeting at the park bench? I told you I wasn’t good at talking. You said you would wear the white scarf.

I ran the whole way to the park yesterday. And when I threw myself breathlessly into the clearing and saw you there, waiting on the bench—the scarf around your neck, my heart leapt into my throat. It was beating a rhythm with my thoughts. _Finally. Finally. Finally._

I won’t ever forget it. You looked at me and you smiled.

My feet crunching through the leaves as I went to you, half-certain I was dreaming. That clear cast of the winter afternoon’s last light, turning your hair silver in the shivering shadows of bare tree branches.

And that small touch of your fingers on the back of my neck—as you drew me to your mouth—I caught fire. My Ignis, my Blaze, my sweetest love. _Finally._

It's too bad the snow started falling, or I think I could have kissed you there on our bench all night.

I’ll find my words again. Later. For now I’m still burning too hot to put them in proper order. But I had to tell you what you do to me. When I read your text this morning—when I realized I can finally give you everything, everything—

This isn’t a great love letter, I’m afraid. When I started writing it I had a huge idea in my mind. I wanted to convey something that now, I think, is beyond vocabulary. The touch of your tongue to mine. Our fingers laced together. The silent flutter of your eyelashes. Your wrist, bare, upturned, waiting.

Shit, gotta run, I’ll be late for my 1pm. I’ll try again later. We have all the time in the world.

Always, always, always,

Your Behemoth

 


	301. Chapter 301

> Subject: **Friendly warning.**
> 
> Mon, Dec 14 at 2:34 PM
> 
> From: Cor.Leonis@HIM.gov.lux
> 
> To: Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

I hear Scientia has accepted the position of Royal Strategist. I take it that dalliance of yours is going ahead and might turn into something more serious and concrete. I am not going to insult either of you with misplaced threats; however, you should be aware I made sure the object of your affections has fully mastered the use of daggers. If you know what’s good for you, you will show him the utmost respect and forthrightness.

With my congratulations and best wishes,

Cor

 


	302. Chapter 302

 

 

Today at 4:11 PM

[SANIA]: Hey sunshine, I’m home. Thanks for looking after everybody.

[SANIA]: Although what did you feed the golden toad? It’s tripled size.

[IGNIS]: What you left for her. You said to feed it ad libitum.

[SANIA]: She never eats much with me.

[IGNIS]: She probably enjoys peace and quiet with her meal.

[SANIA]: Are you saying I’m loud? I: Do I need to?

[SANIA]: Fine. I was going to give you some fish we bought in Dawnigh before heading back as a thank you, but I wouldn’t want to offend with my loudness.

[IGNIS]: And what are you going to do with it if I don’t cook it? You’re an amazing baker, but well… Do we need to talk about the ‘your stove is not a barbecue’ incident again?

[SANIA]: I always thought being in love would make you fun, but apparently I was wrong.

[IGNIS]: I’m plenty fun when I want to be.

[SANIA]: Oh? Do tell, sweetie.

[IGNIS]: Not going to happen. But we do need to talk.

[SANIA]: About?

[IGNIS]: Your meddling ways.

[SANIA]: A ‘thank you’ would suffice.

[IGNIS]: It would not. Bring the fish over for 7. I’ll cook, you’ll talk.

[SANIA]: Fine. But you’ll have to answer at some point.

[IGNIS]: We’ll see.

[SANIA]: I missed that you know. When was the last time we had dinner before your lovestruck heart made you all miserable and I had to take notice? It’d been months.

[IGNIS]: We were busy.

[SANIA]: Yeah and you went all grown up. You used to be cute you know. Sulky fifteen year old trying to kick me out of his kitchen because he had his own place now and didn’t need anybody. And then had to find random excuses to come and see my frogs because he was all lonely.

[IGNIS]: I’m not admitting to any of that.

[SANIA]: I still know the truth. See you later, sweetie.

[IGNIS]: As agreed.

 


	303. Chapter 303

 

 

Today at 7:38 PM

[SANIA]: Look, I’m being romanced!

[SANIA]: [photo of cooked fish in a skillet on a table next to candles]

[GLADIO]: I know Crowe didn't cook that

[GLADIO]: What restaurant did she take you to?

[SANIA]: No restaurant. No Crowe either.

[SANIA]: [photo of Ignis looking judgemental]

[GLADIO]: I see. Is this his way of thanking you for your intervention into our personal affairs?

[GLADIO]: (I owe you my thanks too, but I can't cook like he can. Maybe Crowe and I can take you out for drinks some night soon?)

[SANIA]: Sania’s a rude guest, so I stole her phone. Texting my boyfriend when I’m busy making her dinner, she has no shame.

[SANIA]: She brought fish back from her excursion. And I couldn’t let her cook it. I couldn’t do that to the poor fish. The Astrals have taught us to have compassion for all creatures, even dead ones (hypocritical assholes).

[SANIA]: And she brought the candles, apparently she thought it’d put me in the mood to talk.

[SANIA]: She seems rather interested in our affections, darling. Yes, this is a warning.

[GLADIO]: Hi Iggy

[SANIA]: Hey.

[SANIA]: What’s that I hear about Crowe? Anything else you ‘forgot’ to tell me, love?

[GLADIO]: You’re kidding. Sania didn't mention the name of her new amoureuse? That seems uncharacteristically reticent. Go on, ask her

[GLADIO]: And yeah, Iggy, it was my interference that sent them off camping so you could get a few nights of peace and quiet. You're welcome.

[SANIA]: She wanted to know all that had been going down since she’d been gone. In excruciating details.

[SANIA]: I’m sure she was going to get to that in a bit. Thanks for getting her started.

[SANIA]: Yes, that’s next, but first, lover boy… things ‘went down’? How far down? Come on, give me a hint… Iggy won’t tell me ANYTHING.

[GLADIO]: You two are worse than Zorn and Thorn. Go on, enjoy your dinner. I'll talk to Crowe. Maybe we can double-date to Returning Festival. Tell Iggy bye for me

[SANIA]: Pfff you’re no fun either. You two deserve each other.

[SANIA]: Iggy says he loves you.

[SANIA]: And now he’s blushing. It’s adorable. You lucky dog.

[GLADIO]: He is? Take a picture

[SANIA]: No, you don’t deserve one since you wouldn’t tell me what ‘went down.’

[SANIA]: Anyway… I shall return to having a lovely dinner with your boyfriend.

[SANIA]: Here’s to hoping you don’t feel too lonely, lover boy. :P

[SANIA]: (don’t worry, I realise my hours are soon going to dwindle into nothing, can’t blame me for enjoying it for now)

[GLADIO]: I intend to monopolize his attention before His Majesty’s signature has time to dry on the page. Good night

 


	304. Chapter 304

> Subject: **And yours of me. Always.**
> 
> Mon, Dec 14 at 10:43 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Thank you for that lovely letter of yours. You might have felt it difficult to find your words, but believe me, your intent was most clear.

I miss you all the more knowing we’ll get to be together soon. An ill-defined wait was excruciating, but this slow countdown we have no control over is torture.

I caught myself daydreaming about those instants we stole from the world yesterday so many times. It makes me wary of how much of a distraction your constant and renewed presence in my life is going to become. You’ve always been a threat to my productivity, but each time you give me more to remember, I get drawn into those memories despite myself.

I guess that’s what love does to you, isn’t it? It’s both exhilarating and dangerous.

My heart was beating so hard against my ribcage when I was waiting for you yesterday. It was counting the seconds so loudly I could hear it. And then you arrived. Running. Out of breath. Your coat too flimsy for the cold. And you came to a halt in front of me and I thought you were going to disappear in a puff of smoke. A distasteful trick called forward by Ifrit’s cruelty… It all seemed so impossible. We stared at each other. I took off my glove. It was almost like a test. Or a rite. Your breath was so warm on my chilled skin, your lips so soft and careful. And I could have been blind, I would have known it was you amongst all men. I would have known from that simple gesture. The devotion it signs on my skin, the promise to be mine, the silent behest for me to be yours.

But it wasn’t enough. And I had to come closer, to rest my hand on the nape of your neck and draw you to me. We were so careful at first, weren’t we? But it didn’t last. It was so cold, and yet, I felt like you were setting me aflame. I can’t wait for us to have some real privacy, darling. I can’t wait. I don’t have words except for those. There are so much I want to give you. So much I know you’ll bestow upon me.

I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You were there. You know very well how perfect it was. But I’m sorry, love. Those reminiscences of mine are all I can give you tonight. They’re all that are in my mind. Do you remember how you kissed my neck and your nose was so cold against my skin when you pushed the scarf down and I had to laugh?

I never thought I would return that scarf to you so soon. I told you I’d let you do whatever you wanted with that scarf and with me, once I got to give it back to you. I meant it. It’s in your hands again now. And I do hope you’ll bring it back with you and follow whatever fancy you have this weekend - if the Astrals favour us and everything gets sorted before then.

I want to be yours, in any way you want. I want to close my eyes and feel nothing but trust and love for you, allow for nothing else to matter for a while.

But I haven’t even asked you properly and I should… Will you be free to come this weekend? Do you have any family commitment you need to fulfil? I shouldn’t be selfish, I know this well. I just get carried away imagining the possibilities that await us.

Which actually reminds me… I meant to ask. His Majesty must have told your father about all he found out - yes, I got Noct to tell me all about that audience today. How did that go? I can’t help but think that awkward dinner you mentioned had something to do with it all. Are you in trouble?

I know how it all looks, and I can’t imagine what your father must think of me. I hope he can see our feelings are sincere. In time at least.

Sania was reasonable tonight, she went home early after telling me more about Crowe than I ever wanted to know. I know she’s your friend. Don’t think I am being unkind. No one - except for her partner - ever needs to know some of the excessively loving and positive details I am now privy to. I believe it was revenge for my stubborn refusal to tell her about you. But it was worth it. The moments we share are mine alone and I am not retelling them to anyone except you. I am uncharacteristically wilful where you’re concerned, love.

I think Sania said something about me being distracted and having to hold a conversation on her own before she went home. She might have been right. I was still thinking of yesterday, when the snow started to fall; we looked up staring into the twirling night. It felt like a blessing, the weight of your hands on me, the happy dance of the sky. It was too cold for the flakes to melt and when I looked at you again, your hair was peppered with icy jewels; it looked darker than usual for it. Such a gorgeous contrast. I wish I’d taken a picture. You were so beautiful, seemed so happy. But that moment of sanctuary couldn’t last. Not that day anyway. We walked side by side back to the entrance of the park, our joined hands hidden by our coats and the twilight. I pulled you under a dark elm, its branches a welcome screen, for a last kiss. Knowing this time it wouldn't be the last. It tasted sweeter for the promise it contained. Soon it won’t matter if anyone sees us, whatever they might think… It still feels unreal you know.  I woke up this morning and I thought I’d dreamed it all. But I got up and the scarf wasn’t under the locket on my bedside table and when I looked in the mirror there was a telltale bruise on my neck. It was thankfully low enough that I could hide it under a judicious collar, but you are not subtle, darling.

I miss you.

Tell me what you’ll want to do when we’re finally going to be alone. Tell me so I can look forward to it and dream of it. I need it. It’s going to be a long week.

I love you. More than I can say.

Blaze

 


	305. Chapter 305

 

 

Today at 12:20 PM

[SANIA]: Hey, lover boy. Just wanted to say congratulations and really happy for you two and all that.

[SANIA]: Also you might want to know I’ve authored a book titled ‘Venom and toxin - a compendium of Eos’ deadliest creatures.’ It’s a bit of a misleading title because it also deals with tasteless poisons that inflict horrendous, excruciating, long lasting pain.

[SANIA]: I hope you can make Iggy happy. Really happy. For your own sake.

[SANIA]: If you catch my drift…

[SANIA]: Have a lovely day.

 


	306. Chapter 306

> Subject: **Never subtle when it comes to you**
> 
> Tue, Dec 15 at 10:09 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Sweet Blaze,

That’s right, I never answered your last letter, did I? He wasn’t pleased with me. I’m going to have to train recruits this summer as punishment. 6am, every morning! Stars have mercy. But it’s worth it. And I told him so.

Gods above, what an excruciating dinner that was. Finally he stopped talking. I’d been nodding dutifully and yes-sir’ing for hours, it felt like, although I know it wasn’t really that long, and I was staring down into the dregs of my cognac and just wishing he would let me go already so I could run upstairs and write to you. But then he reached across the table and filled my glass.

“Tell me about him,” he said. “Tell me why he’s so special to you.”

And I did. I don’t even remember what I said, it was so odd to be talking with my father like that. I was stumbling on about how you’re so smart and funny and interesting and the more I said, the hotter I felt my face getting, because I knew I wasn’t finding the right words, and he was probably wondering what he’d done to deserve such a lunkhead for a son. Eventually I kinda trailed off and took a big swig of cognac, which was a mistake, because I started choking on it. Disgusting stuff.

He waited for me to stop coughing, and then he said, “That’s how I felt about your mother.”

I think I’ve told you before she was from Galahd. This was long before the Empire invaded, of course. She went to Accordo when she was a teenager to start her career as a singer, and that’s where she met my father. I knew that part of the story already. But he said, “Didn’t you ever wonder why we waited so long to marry?”

I hadn’t ever really thought of it. I was pretty young when she died, and I only knew the bare details. But apparently they met in Altissia just before Lucis pulled the Wall back to Insomnia. My father and Noct’s father were on a trip together, and they attended an evening at the opera.

“I fell in love when I heard the first note from her throat,” he said. “We spent a week together—thanks to His Majesty’s generosity, who amused himself at the Totomostro in the meantime—and then the news came from the front and we had to beat a hasty retreat home. I wrote to her for seven years before I convinced her to come join me in the Crown City. A year later you were born.”

I can’t imagine my father writing letters for seven years. I wonder if he saved them. I should ask. Iris would like to read them, I think, when she’s older.

I hope you never stop sharing your reminiscences with me. And I’m going to do my best not to distract you too much. Don’t worry; I’ll leave your workweek alone. This weekend, though, is going to be all ours. I have a surprise for you.

I hope I haven’t been too impetuous, and I know I should have waited until the papers were signed, but I had a wonderful idea this morning and I couldn’t stop myself. Can you arrange to be home Friday to sign for the delivery? I’ve told them to take it back if you don’t like it. You won’t hurt my feelings. But—I’m pretty sure you’ll be pleased. Oh, Ignis, I can’t _wait_ to spoil you. I’ll be the most irritating boyfriend. It’s going to be so much fun.

I’m passing our scarf through my hands now and dreaming of having your silken skin beneath my fingertips. Love, my own love, we aren’t going to leave your apartment all weekend. It would be too dangerous even to walk down to the corner shop for coffee. I’d end up tackling you on the counter and taking you in full view of all the horrified customers. Remember that regret you had, after our camping trip? That desire of yours I left unfulfilled?

Think of it. Right now. As you’re reading this. I want to picture the heat rising in your face, the ache you’re feeling as you know what I’m going to do to you in just three short days. You’ll hear my knock on the door and you’ll already be hard for me. You are now, just imagining it, aren’t you?

Three days away,

Your Behemoth

 


	307. Chapter 307

> Subject: **From His Royal Highness, Noctis Lucis Caelum, First of His Name, to the Attention of Gladiolus Amicitia, Sworn Shield of His Most Illustrious Highness, 67th Bearer of the Title of his Fathers.**
> 
> Wed, Dec 16 at 2:13 PM
> 
> From: Noctis.Lucis.Caelum@HRH.gov.lux
> 
> To: Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

On this 350th day of the 23rd year of the Reign of His Most Illustrious Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum,

To My Dear Friend and Protector,

First of all, I would like to offer my congratulations for the success of your plan; a plan I helped you put into action with much brio if I do say so myself.

Ignis tells me that he has accepted the position we helped secure for him and while I am delighted that you will both be free to follow your hearts, more has to be said.

In olden times, as his liege giving him away to someone of a higher status than his, I would have put his hand in yours and doing so would have forgone the duties I had towards him as my vassal; they would have been yours to fulfil as you promised to care for him from there on and he promised to serve you.

But these are not those times and I will not relinquish my claim on him fully. His heart and private times are for you to cherish. His brain and working hours are mine to keep (no matter what my father says).

I will, however, still hold you responsible for his happiness. As much as I know that he is far from defenceless, he is also terrible at looking after himself and recognising the attention and care he is due. I will not forget this, and you would do well to devote yourself to bringing him fulfilment and joy in all things.

In other words and to be perfectly clear, if you hurt him, if you forget how lucky you are that he even looks at you, you will find me rather lacking in clemency. You might be good at what you do, Lord Shield, but I know where you live and I can warp my way past your defences faster than your eyes can see. I promise you won’t see me coming.

Now, it would be rather regretful if you weren’t there to fend off all of your dear sister’s suitors and she had to carry that distasteful task out herself, wouldn’t it?

Astral Blessings upon you and all you love,

Noctis Lucis Caelum

 


	308. Chapter 308

> Subject: **Monday is going to be the most embarrassing Council session of my existence, won’t it?**
> 
> Wed, Dec 16 at 9:09 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

First of all, I am sorry about that extra work you’ve been assigned for the summer. I know it is worth it, I won’t argue with you on this, but I do regret that you have to put yourself through such hardship for me. I know your usual duties are substantial enough. Thank you, darling.

It got me thinking though. It would be easy enough for me to mimic your timetable during those few months, to get into the Citadel a bit earlier than I do at the moment, so I can spare time for a proper lunch break with you. It should work most days. They would have to be hands off, conversation only, breaks since we’d still be officially on duty but it would be nice all the same. I could make us lunch boxes and we could sit in the orangery for a while. It’s so nice and warm in there. Actually, it’s lovely even in the middle of winter. Maybe we don’t need to wait for those extra hours of yours to start having lunch together. If you’re willing...

I am telling you all this and it sounds like another one of those lovely fantasies we’ve told each other for so long. I can’t quite grasp that I’m not just daydreaming, that we could really share those moments soon. It’s going to take me a while to believe our encounters are not some elaborate illusion that will crumble around me without warning just as I start letting my guard down.

I’m glad - as difficult as it was for you - that you had that talk with your father. Hopefully, he will not judge us too harshly from here on. And I am truly honoured, love, that whatever words you chose to talk about us made your father think of his relationship with your mother. You told me several times how much they loved each other. I hope he can see that what we share, humbly and honestly, is not much different from what they did.

It is interesting though, how they too wrote for a long time. I say a long time - we have barely done so for three months and it feels an eternity to me. Seven years… I cannot imagine. I suppose they were at least able to be more open than we have been about their correspondence. But it must have been hard on them.

And I’m sure your father still has their letters. I wouldn’t part with yours, not in this life. But if theirs were anything like ours, not all might be appropriate for Iris to see. I’m sure she’d enjoy reading a selection.

I can’t help but wonder though, if the Astrals have blessed your bloodline with some odd inclination for the written word. We’ve lost so much of old history since Solheim fell and the Scourge started spreading, one has to wonder if the role of the Shield was always one limited to physical protection.

And certainly, I can be home on Friday. Noct has a usual school day and I can bring work home with me. But you got me curious… a surprise. I will be patient, however, and trust you on this as well. You will have to work hard to be an irritating boyfriend, darling. I’ve been wishing for nothing else for so long, just being able to use that word feels like a gratifying treat. I love you.

Finally, yes… yes, to all you suggested and asked at the end of your letter. We’ll have time and privacy and comfort, and I will be yours as promised. However you want me. And for this too, I will forget my apprehension and trust you.

But as you pointed out, we might not want to start there, because I very much doubt either of us will have much restraint or patience to start with. And you might enjoy pushing my buttons with your luscious suggestions, darling, but I know you weren’t unbothered writing those words and I know very well what you did after you sent that email. I am as sure of it as I am that the new moon will find you knocking on my door a couple of days from now. Keeping myself distracted from the oppressive darkness outside should be easy enough this time around. Think of me until then, I will do the same…

All my love,

Blaze

 


	309. Chapter 309

> Subject: **Tomorrow you can tell me if it was a surprise worth staying home for**
> 
> Thu, Dec 17 at 5:51 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Are you afraid I’ll leave you walking stiffly Monday morning, dear Blaze? Sore and exhausted from all the delicious postures we’ve twisted ourselves into? Rosy marks hidden beneath your elegant attire? No one could possibly know, but you’ll shift in your chair and remember…

Don’t worry. We’re going to take it slow. Think of how many more weekends we have ahead of us. Expanses of them. It might take us a while to get used to that. We’ve always had to rush, to fit everything we wanted into small stolen moments. I can’t quite get my head around it either. I keep catching myself thinking of this weekend as a secret getaway, and then I have to remind myself we’ll have the weekend after, and the weekend after that, and the weekend after that…

I’ll have you over for dinner sometime soon to meet the family. It’ll be okay, my dad knows you didn’t have anything to do with that plan, I told him you were just as mad at me as he was. Not too soon, though. I want you all to myself for a few weeks. And my neck needs time to recover before I force it back into that despicable collar. They’ll give you a formal Crownsguard uniform, won’t they? Fuck, you’ll look hot in that. I can’t wait. The ceremony’s not till the end of the month, right? On the full moon?

And hey. No apologies about the extra work. So goddamned worth it and no hardship at all. I’ll enjoy every minute of it, knowing what it pays for. I hear you might have a little extra work yourself, training a replacement, but it sounds like your load might be a bit lighter in the long run. I can’t wait to have lunch with you. Next week, when everything’s official? I usually end up eating a very boring sandwich at my desk. Spending that hour with you instead sounds positively decadent.

Love,

Your utterly besotted boyfriend

P.S. What an interesting idea about the historic role of the Shield. I know we’ve been talking a lot about the, uh, more physical opportunities we’ll have now, but I have to admit I’m almost equally excited about having time to finally talk to you. Mornings in bed with coffee and long conversations. We have so much to catch up on.

 


	310. Chapter 310

 

 

Today at 6:18 PM

[GLADIO]: Heyyyyy Crowe

[GLADIO]: I won’t accept a cancellation tonight

[GLADIO]: I’m already getting dressed

[GLADIO]: I’ll be EARLY

[CROWE]: Well isn’t that interesting?

[CROWE]: Mr. Invariably Half an Hour Late has no problem being on time when he has something to brag about

[GLADIO]: Ouch!

[GLADIO]: Don’t I get credit for introducing you to frog lady?

[GLADIO]: I do want to hear about your trip

[CROWE]: Oh you’ll hear all about it

[CROWE]: But ok, I admit, I’m dying to hear what happened with Iggy

[CROWE]: Throwing myself in the shower now. See you soon. Wait until you see my new tattoo

[GLADIO]: What

[GLADIO]: Crowe

[GLADIO]: Hello???

[GLADIO]: Oh fine

[GLADIO]: I’m on my way

 


	311. Chapter 311

> Subject: **If it’s a good surprise, I’ll thank you for it. Properly.**
> 
> Thu, Dec 17 at 10:42 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

No, I’m not worried about physical discomfort.

I should tell you the story sometime - in details - of how Cor pulled me from my physical training just as I was getting cocky from winning most sparring matches against my peers. He said I could be better and he would train me if I wanted. I wasn’t going to turn down an offer by _The Immortal_ but I still thought - with all the conceit of a fifteen year old who’d been doing a bit too well recently - that he was going to polish my technique rather than truly rebuild it from the ground up.

I’m sure you can imagine how wrong I was. Anyway, the first two training sessions had no other goal than to teach me humility again, and very efficiently at that. I don’t remember biting the dust that many times in a row ever. I had to ask for mercy in the end; Cor just smiled. ‘Now, do you want to get better?’ he asked. I bowed my head, said ‘yes, sir’ and he gave me the most gruelling series of daily exercises to follow for the next month in preparation for proper training. I was past arguing by this point.

But through all that, and despite being black and blue from it all, I gritted my teeth and kept on going with my usual duties. So I’m sure I can cope with our coming weekend in that respect, especially since I trust you to not push me too far.

I am concerned, however, that you’re not going to keep all marks ‘under my elegant attire’ as you put it. You’ll probably try to start with, but I remember how carried away you get and I am not holding onto much hope that you’ll still mind such earthly considerations when we will forget all else. In other words, darling, I am planning on investing in some good quality concealer to try and preserve my dignity in Council. It seems like the wisest course of action.

Also, I am blaming you for making me feel embarrassed in front of Noctis. It has never happened before and it’s absolutely your fault. I dropped him home tonight and I told him I’d come later than usual on Saturday (because I didn’t want us to have to put an alarm) and he nodded and he said ‘because you’ll be with Gladio, right?’ I stared at him and he looked at me for like half a minute in silence. I think he blushed worse than I did. But well… I wasn’t going to deny it, so I said yes, indeed, and that I’d send you to get us dinner or something when I disappeared for a couple of hours for his usual weekend tuition.

But he frowned, shook his head and said ‘other weekends maybe, but it won’t do this time,’ and I was already ready to tell him he better not try to use our relationship as an excuse to get out of work, but he just said ‘what if we do it now? Then you can have the whole weekend. ’

And that’s how, darling, I’ve just spent two hours teaching geography to Noctis - he applied himself too, and I am truly all yours this weekend, without restrictions. Do not worry, he did ask for something in return. Apparently, he wants passes to go into the royal vault with Prompto to show him a gory painting they’ve been talking about… Not too sure on the details. But being underage still, he needs permission and apparently I can give him that in my new position. Needless to say, I agreed. That painting can’t be worse than some of the video games they buy behind my back and think I don’t know about. But anyway, he was really excited about it. If I was overly cynical, I’d think he organised this whole thing to show Prompto that painting.

And that’s how I first used my newly found power, signing some passes for the royal treasure. Not exactly how I’d pictured it going down, but well, Noct is happy so I have no complaints.

I would lie if I didn’t admit to be rather nervous about meeting your family. I have caused them much trouble and concern, but I will do my best to redeem myself in their eyes. I know how much they mean to you, and I need them to understand how much you mean to me, that I will give you all the love and care I can from here on, that they can depend on me to look after your wellbeing and your heart. It seems a lot to ask for, that kind of trust, when they care about you so much, yet know precious little about me, but I will work at it until they understand it to be the truth.

And absolutely, love, conversations are high on the list I crave to tackle with you. I will always adore your letters, but deep, intelligent discussion is a need that can be fulfilled only face to face and with your voice low and kind around me, warming me to my core. I want all of it. And I can hardly wait.

What time do you finish work tomorrow? When can I expect you over? I will be counting the seconds.

I love you,

Your ablaze Ignis.

 


	312. Chapter 312

> Subject: **When you open the door it’s going to feel like the first time all over again**
> 
> Thu, Dec 17 at 11:56 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

My ablaze love,

The Marshal is rather excellent at teaching humility, isn’t he? I’ve been on the wrong end of that sword (and that tongue) more times than I care to count myself. But hey, joking aside, you know I would never hurt you, right? Or do anything to cause you embarrassment later? I promise I’ll be gentle. And as I told you before our camping trip—and I mean it now as I meant it then—just because you’re extending an invitation doesn’t mean I expect or am owed anything. If we end up watching movies and eating popcorn all weekend, I’ll be thrilled to snuggle up with you and enjoy your company and nothing more. (I know you’re going to protest that you have much more in mind. Believe me, love, I’m aware. But I needed to remind you anyway.)

As for Noctis, however, I refuse to accept blame; that kid knows exactly what he’s doing. You should have heard the innuendo from his not-so-innocent little mouth on our fishing trip! I certainly don’t know where he gets it from. Not me. This is what comes of letting him attend high school with a bunch of other excessively hormonal adolescents. Although now that I think of it, I did catch Nyx Ulric teaching him some inexpressibly vulgar curses the other day. Teenagers might actually be a better influence on him than the Glaives.

One more reassurance before I call it a night. (Spent the evening down at the tavern with Crowe. I know far more now about your neighbor than I ever expected nor wished to learn. In fairness, they’ve both had to listen to a good amount of our own romantic yearnings. I think we owe them a round of drinks. I told Crowe we’d meet up for Returning Festival and the four of us can walk the stalls together.) My family is going to love you, dear heart. I promise my father isn’t as scary as I’ve made him out to be. And you and Iris will get along famously.

I’ve got my usual 3pm with Noct and I’m bringing my weekend bag to work with me. I’ll shower and head over to your place directly after. Be there about a half past four.

In breathless anticipation,

Your Behemoth

 


	313. Chapter 313

 

 

Today at 9:12 AM

[NOCTIS]: I’m soooooo dead. Did some extra lessons with Iggy last night so he could have his weekend (and we can have ours :P). Didn’t really get to bed later than usual in the end, but I’m soooo tired.

[NOCTIS]: Prom… why am I so tired?

[PROMPTO]: You got Iggy brain drain, my friend

[PROMPTO]: Dude. Did you get the passes?????

[NOCTIS]: Who do you think you’re talking to?

[NOCTIS]: I might be tired but I’m not dumb.

[NOCTIS]: Of course, I did! ;P

[PROMPTO]: Oh heck yeah

[PROMPTO]: This is gonna rule

[PROMPTO]: I can take photos, right?

[NOCTIS]: As long as you don’t submit them to the school competition, should be dandy.

[NOCTIS]: Just don’t eat too much before coming because, ewwww… dude… I’m telling you.

[PROMPTO]: Awesome

[PROMPTO]: Hey have you talked to Iris lately?

[NOCTIS]: Saw her at a recital, a couple of days ago, her music teacher got her to present to court.

[NOCTIS]: She’s a lot more talented than I am, I’ll tell you that.

[NOCTIS]: But we didn’t have much time to talk.

[PROMPTO]: I still feel a little guilty about that interrogation

[PROMPTO]: Plus if the big guy's spending all weekend at Iggy's, she’ll be lonely

[PROMPTO]: What do you think about inviting her to tag along?

[PROMPTO]: She's an Amicitia, she can handle it

[NOCTIS]: Hmm… I dunno. I kind of want to.

[NOCTIS]: On the other hand… Gladio is going to MURDER me when he finds out.

[PROMPTO]: Eh whatever

[PROMPTO]: I doubt it

[PROMPTO]: Pretty sure he’ll be too busy banging Iggy for the next few weeks to pay attention to anything else

[NOCTIS]: DUDE! NO!

[NOCTIS]: YOU DO NOT SAY THINGS LIKE THAT. GROSS! Grosser than that goddamn painting… I don’t need to be imagining that. You only see them occasionally but I have to look them both in the eyes multiple times a day, you know!

[NOCTIS]: But fine, let’s invite Iris. Gladio owes me, anyway.

[NOCTIS]: Up to her if she wants to look or not.

[PROMPTO]: lol

 


	314. Chapter 314

 

 

(Above is a delivery receipt for a burgundy couch.)

 


	315. Chapter 315

 

 

Today at 1:42 PM

[IGNIS]: I’ve been staring at my sitting room for over an hour. I still can’t believe it.

[IGNIS]: I can’t believe you did that.

[GLADIO]: Is it too much? Tell me if it's too much and I'll have them take it away

[IGNIS]: It’s… definitely too much. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[IGNIS]: Nobody touches my couch.

[GLADIO]: Gods, I love you, Iggy

[GLADIO]: How can you be real?

[IGNIS]: I can’t tell you. Wouldn’t want you to have all the answers and get bored with me.

[GLADIO]: I just spent a couple of very entertaining moments trying to imagine how that could ever happen

[GLADIO]: Maybe if you tied me up and forced me to listen to you reading tax compendia?

[GLADIO]: Oh, who am I kidding, I’d enjoy that

[IGNIS]: Gladio, don’t. Tax compendia is off-limit. That’s my get-out-of-jail-free card for when you put me in an embarrassing situation without warning.

[IGNIS]: Which you do more efficiently than I care to admit.

[IGNIS]: You can’t take that away from me.

[GLADIO]: Good point. You’d be stuck in your office until you were officially off duty. Then you’d have to text me to come by your desk and help you out

[IGNIS]: You’re not helping.

[IGNIS]: Also this is never happening. Off duty or not, the office is for work only.

[IGNIS]: There are some risks we will never be able to take, no matter how thrilling the idea.

[IGNIS]: Speaking of thrilling… still coming over after Noct’s 3pm session?

[GLADIO]: You know it. We gotta christen that new couch. Don't get started without me!

[IGNIS]: You’re incorrigible. You’re lucky I love you.

[IGNIS]: And I’m not. I’m sorting out dinner. I remember your perpetual growling stomach, darling.

[GLADIO]: Yeah, I remember our camping trip. When I tried to stop for dinner, you insisted on having me instead

[GLADIO]: Shit, my 2pm is here. See you soon, gorgeous

[IGNIS]: I didn’t hear you complain back then, I doubt I’ll hear you complain now. I’ll be waiting.

 


	316. Chapter 316

 

 

Today at 4:14 PM

[IGNIS]: I’m going to have a shower, love. The key is under the potted plant by the door.

[IGNIS]: Come in, make yourself comfortable. I have a lovely couch.

[IGNIS]: One I should thank you for. Properly.

[IGNIS]: I’m going to be warm and relaxed from the shower. I’m going to want to give you everything.

[IGNIS]: Do you want that, Gladio? Do you want me to kneel in front of you, watch you from there until you ache and I can see it, I can see how hard you are? And only then reach out. Slowly. Deliberately. So you can feel everything before it even happens…

[GLADIO]: Iggy

[GLADIO]: I am going to have to tie a hoodie around my waist for the walk over

[GLADIO]: You knew exactly what your words would do to me, didn't you?

[GLADIO]: On my way

 


	317. Chapter 317

 

 

(Above is a photograph of a doorstep with a potted plant. A gloved hand is holding a key.)

 


	318. Chapter 318

 

 

(Above is an image of Gladio sitting on the burgundy couch, with Ignis kneeling in front of him. Thank you to [Chiii](https://chipeppers.tumblr.com/) for the gorgeous artwork!)

 


	319. Chapter 319

 

 

(Above is an image of Gladio sitting on the burgundy couch, with Ignis lying on his stomach facing him. Thank you to [Jakface](https://jakface.tumblr.com/) for the amazing artwork!)

 


	320. Chapter 320

 

 

(Above is a photograph of sliced Prime Garula Rib on a plate with horseradish cream sauce and a salad.)

 


	321. Chapter 321

 

 

(Above is a delivery receipt from the Crow's Nest Diner Crown City for two eggs with extra bacon and hash browns and a breakfast sandwich on sourdough with aioli and arugula, plus a fruit salad. The recipients of the order left a generous tip.)

 


	322. Chapter 322

 

 

Today at 12:34 PM

[IGNIS]: Noct. You have to get up.

[NOCTIS]: I don’t have to do anything. You can’t make me.

[IGNIS]: Fine.

[IGNIS]: Noct, you should get up.

[IGNIS]: Don’t squander your days off in bed, then complain when you have to go back to school on Tuesday.

[NOCTIS]: Hmmmmmmm… Go away.

[IGNIS]: A lie-in is fine. But I think you got that by now.

[NOCTIS]: Why are you even talking to me? Have you exhausted Gladio already?

[IGNIS]: None of your business.

[NOCTIS]: Or he’s exhausted you…

[IGNIS]: He’s at the supermarket. I’m going to have to learn to plan adequately for his calorie intake.

[NOCTIS]: Yeah, he’s seriously impressive.

[NOCTIS]: Aaaaaand… I regret to have said that.

[IGNIS]: Well… you’re not wrong. Definitely not.

[NOCTIS]: Damn it, Iggy. TMI.

[IGNIS]: You asked for it.

[NOCTIS]: Why? Why me?

[IGNIS]: You made it happen, remember?

[NOCTIS]: Ugh.

[IGNIS]: I’ll see you Tuesday.

[IGNIS]: No ditching your guards at the Festival.

[NOCTIS]: Yeah. Yeah.

[IGNIS]: Enjoy your weekend.

[NOCTIS]: You too. [winking emoji]

[IGNIS]: You don't have to worry about that. [devil emoji]

 


	323. Chapter 323

 

 

Today at 12:58 PM

[GLADIO]: I found the butter... I found the milk... I even found cream. Iggy, you know I love you and I'm not judging your foodie choices, but what in Shiva's holy light is buttermilk?

[IGNIS]: Why, darling… Have your impeccable survival instincts been defeated by a measly supermarket?

[GLADIO]: Buttermilk doesn't count as a survival item. It sounds like something countesses use to wash their faces.

[IGNIS]: You would know.

[IGNIS]: It’s mildly soured milk, love. It should be with the cream. Nice light yellow in colour. I know they have some. Have another look.

[GLADIO]: I can't tell if you're teasing me about my beautiful complexion or about that terror who was chasing me around the masquerade. In any case, the cashier is giving me a very odd look because I'm standing in the middle of the store laughing to myself. Hang on

[GLADIO]: Oh. Found it

[GLADIO]: Ohhhhh

[GLADIO]: Whipped cream

[IGNIS]: You are a perverted man, Gladiolus Amicitia.

[IGNIS]: Buy it.

[GLADIO]: Getting two cans

[IGNIS]: I’ve changed the sheets. Maybe that wasn’t my smartest idea.

[IGNIS]: Oh well, worth it. They’re black and satin and you should see how I look on them...

[GLADIO]: Fuck, Iggy

[GLADIO]: The sidewalks are icy but I'm running all the way back to your place

[IGNIS]: You better be in shipshape condition when you get here. I have many plans for you.

[IGNIS]: (Yes, darling, that’s my way of telling you to be careful. The weekend has hardly begun.)

 


	324. Chapter 324

 

 

(Above is a photograph of an open box of delivery pizza, with a few slices already eaten.)

 


	325. Chapter 325

 

 

(Above is a photograph of two plates of buttermilk pancakes with blueberries and pomegranate on top.)

 


	326. Chapter 326

 

 

**2 player strip poker**

 

  * 10 items of clothing each (to be removed in the following order):
    * Ignis:
      * socks (x2)
      * pants
      * shirt stays (x2)
      * shirt
      * scarf
      * gloves (x2)
      * underwear ( **Gladio: ‘Switch. Gloves last’)**



 

    * Gladio:
      * socks (x2)
      * hoodie
      * belt
      * tank top
      * wallet chain
      * pants
      * wrist guard
      * baseball cap
      * underwear **(Gladio: ‘Don’t have any. “Necklace” instead’)**



 

    * 50 chips each to start



 

  * Standard Leide hold-em rules
    * small blind: 1
    * big blind: 2



 

  * Additional rules:
    * The loser of the hand loses betted chip and must either:
      * remove one item of clothing
      * pay a fine of 10 chips to the bank



 

    * Powerplays **(Gladio: ‘like the sound of that)**
      * The winner of the hand does one shot **(Gladio: ‘off the body of the loser (location at the winner’s discretion)’)**.
      * Any play that reveals:
        * nipples
        * genitalia
        * left wrist **(Gladio: ‘Yes’)**
        * throat (scarf or necklace)
        * will be considered a power play
    * If out of chips, a player may sell ONE item of clothing to the bank for 10 chips.



 

    * A player may be allowed to sell more than one item of clothing if (to the exclusion of all else) they need:
      * To gain enough chips to raise or match a bet (must have less than 10 chips after betting)
      * To go all in at a higher point of their choosing. **(Gladio: ‘So detail oriented. I love that (and you)’)**



 

    * A player loses when they are either fully naked and completely out of chips, or when fully naked and without enough chips to pay a fine or a blind they owe.



 

    * At the end of the game, the forfeit will be performed by the loser upon the winner.



 

The forfeit is defined as oral sex to the point of orgasm. **(Gladio: ‘or until the winner is sated. Might take repeat performances’)** (Ignis: ‘You’re on’) **(Gladio: ‘ <3xx’)**

 


	327. Chapter 327

 

 

(Above is a photograph of Ignis and Gladio's handwritten rules for strip poker, some scattered playing cards, two shot glasses, a bottle of liquor, a white dress shirt, and a pair of black shirt stays.)

 


	328. Chapter 328

 

 

Today at 4:14 PM

[IRIS]: Gladdy! Guess what!

[GLADIO]: Hi, Peaches. What?

[IRIS]: Noct and Prompto took me to see the Royal Vaults today! It was so cool!! They didn’t have a pass for me but the guards let me in anyway since I was with the prince.

[GLADIO]: Did they, now? I’ll have to have a word with them

[IRIS]: Oh, stop it. You sound just like Daddy.

[IRIS]: Look at this creepy weird old painting!

[IRIS]: [photo of Noctis and Prompto in front of a painting]

[GLADIO]: I can’t really see it, Peaches, they’re kinda blocking the view

[IRIS]: It was SO GROSS. It’s some ancient Lucian king being stabbed by his strategist. There’s a bunch of blood gushing out of his eye socket, and his eyeball is dangling from the end of the knife, and the strategist is grinning like a daemon, ewwww! It gave me shivers!! I had so much fun!

[GLADIO]: And this was Noct’s idea, was it?

[IRIS]: He said he felt bad about that time he gave me the moogle cupcake and made me cry.

[GLADIO]: Why that little… is he still there with you?

[IRIS]: No. He gave me a ride home. His car is so nice! And he didn’t yell at me for dropping chips on the seat like you do.

[GLADIO]: I should go give him a piece of my mind right now

[GLADIO]: He’s lucky I have better things to do

[GLADIO]: I guess we’ll agree to consider it part of your art history curriculum

[IRIS]: And we had pizza at his house and played this really gross game where you chop people’s heads off with a sword!! I killed Prompto eight times.

[GLADIO]: I see

[IRIS]: I have to go now, Jared made popcorn with your spices and we’re going to watch a cactuar documentary. Tell Blaze I said hi!!

[GLADIO]: You got it. Sweet dreams, Peaches

 


	329. Chapter 329

 

 

Today at 4:24 PM

[GLADIO]: Ignis Scientia

[GLADIO]: Your precocious pupil let Iris play that disgusting bushido game he’s been hiding from you

[IGNIS]: Oh no. Is she upset?

[GLADIO]: Actually, she loved it

[IGNIS]: I would offer to call and lecture him for you, but I have other more interesting plans.

[IGNIS]: The lecture will have to wait. He won’t escape it though.

[IGNIS]: I’ve only been gone ten minutes, darling, do you miss me that much?

[GLADIO]: Yes! How could you leave me alone this long?

[IGNIS]: In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve run out of rather critical supplies. And you need a shower.

[GLADIO]: Oh, fine. Get me some chips too

[IGNIS]: There’s plenty of leftover roast beef.

[GLADIO]: A man needs his strength, Iggy. Carbohydrates are an important part of a balanced diet. I’m going to jump in the shower now. Feel free to join me

[IGNIS]: Now, that’s a tempting offer. I won’t be long.

 


	330. Chapter 330

 

 

(Above is a photograph of a note pushed under a door. It reads, "Boys, Crowe & I are really, really, really happy for you. But you’ve had your revenge now. Also chafing is a thing you should take seriously. Trust me. Here’s a crazy suggestion: how about we sleep tonight? Well, let’s say sex until 2am, let it all out if you have to, then sleep? Until 9 at least? Please? Pretty please? We need a minimum of rest to enjoy our double date tomorrow night. Thank you. We love you. Just not as much and as effusively as you love each other. Obviously." The note is signed S+C in a heart.)

 


	331. Chapter 331

 

 

(Above is a photograph of waffles on a plate with chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and berries.)

 


	332. Chapter 332

 

 

Today at 9:54 AM

[IGNIS]: Apparently, we’re going to have a talk about your choice of entertainment for your younger guests.

[IGNIS]: Tomorrow, bright and early Noct.

[NOCTIS]: Nooooooooooo… Let Gladio murder me instead, please.

[IGNIS]: Not a chance. You made your bed. See you tomorrow.

[NOCTIS]: [crying emoji]

 


	333. Chapter 333

 

 

(Above is a photograph of a wooden board on a table with five different kinds of festival dumplings and a bowl of dipping sauce.)

 


	334. Chapter 334

> Subject: **You better not have ditched me to hang out with those boring old Glaives**
> 
> Mon, Dec 21 at 5:36 PM
> 
> From: deadoralive@eosmail.com
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com

 

Hey! Where are you? I’m at the meat pie stand and everything smells AMAZING. There are like a jillion people here but I got us a couple of seats. One dude tried to snag yours and I was like “sorry, that’s for the prince” and he gave me a super dubious look but let it go.

Check out who I ran into by the park. They were having a pretty awesome snow battle, I got in a few shots myself.

And they let me take their photos for my collection!

Nice to see them looking so happy for a change. It’s a Returning Festival miracle (thanks to you buddy)

 

 

 


	335. Chapter 335

 

 

Today at 7:33 PM

[GLADIO]: Where are you guys?

[GLADIO]: I’m so full of dumplings I look like a bullfrog

[GLADIO]: Iggy taught me how to make them this morning! I cut the dough myself and everything

[GLADIO]: Crowwwwwe

[CROWE]: Sorry swordboy, I didn’t hear my phone

[CROWE]: Come meet us down by the water. They’re going to release the lanterns soon. You don’t want to miss your lucky new year’s kiss!

[CROWE]: Too bad I won’t be able to give it to you this year, but I’ve already promised Sania

[GLADIO]: That’s okay, babe. I think I know someone else who might like it

[GLADIO]: If I can drag him away from this very interesting display of ceremonial daggers

[GLADIO]: Be there soon

 


	336. Chapter 336

 

 

(Above is a gif of lanterns floating in the water at night.)

 


	337. Chapter 337

 

 

(Above is a bar bill from 7th Heaven for a Cleigne Wheat Ale, a Duscaen Orange Lambic, a Coconut Chili Mojito, and Old Piztala Spiced Rum.)

 


	338. Chapter 338

 

 

Today at 11:31 PM

[SANIA]: Iggy. Are you both still in that snowbank?

[SANIA]: Just wanted to let you know Crowe and I are heading home.

[SANIA]: Also you forfeited that snowball fight when you decided making out in the snow was more important.

[SANIA]: You’re picking the tab up next time.

[SANIA]: Iggy…

[SANIA]: Just tell me we don’t need to come dig you boys up.

[IGNIS]: You don’t. We’re fine. More than.

[IGNIS]: Good night.

[SANIA]: You too. Happy making out. Don’t wake us up later.

 


	339. Chapter 339

 

 

(Above is a gif of fireworks in the night sky. One of the fireworks is shaped like a heart.)

 


	340. Chapter 340

> Subject: **Why couldn’t this weekend last forever…**
> 
> Tue, Dec 22 at 10:53 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I know we said we’d meet for lunch, but I already need to cancel on you. I just got out of His Majesty’s cabinet. He’s asked me to produce a complete strategic analysis of the Empire movement over the past year within the next two weeks. I don’t think he realises what an enormous task this is, if done properly. Or maybe he knows and it’s his way of testing me. I have no idea when I’m going to find the time to do this.

I promised you every spare moment I’d have but it seems they’ll be quite scarce, darling. I’m sorry.

I have to cut this short. Complaining to you is ungrateful of me and will not help work get done.

I love you,

Your Blaze.

 


	341. Chapter 341

> Subject: **Remember, the next one’s only three days away**
> 
> Tue, Dec 22 at 4:48 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Sweet love,

Okay, deep breaths. You got this. Don’t forget you have the full support of the admin department now, and yeah I know I said they were all idiots, but I bet there are a few who can be trusted to help you delegate effectively. You don’t need to do all those random miscellaneous tasks anymore that used to eat up so much of your time.

I did miss you at lunch, but we’ll have other opportunities. Hey, what about an 8pm sparring session with me tonight? Great way to blow off some steam. Promise you’ll feel better after.

Aside from the extra work, how was your day? Hope you weren’t too tired after the late night (I guess it wasn’t really that late for you). I got home around one and my dad was still up drinking eggnog with Jared and playing cards. I said sure, I’d have a glass, and they dealt me in for a hand. Halfway through my dad said, “Son, if you’re going to be spending three nights in a row with this young man, I’d like to meet him. Bring him over for dinner tomorrow.”

What do you think? Ready to face House Amicitia? Jared said he’d have the cooking staff make whatever’s your favorite. If you don’t have a preference I suggest their breaded cutlet with tomato, it’s excellent.

P.S. Wrote most of this before I had to run and pick Iris up. She helped me take this photo for you since my hands were full of snow.

 

 


	342. Chapter 342

> Subject: **Here’s to hoping I don’t have to work through it…**
> 
> Tue, Dec 22 at 6:03 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Sparring sounds good. I’ve been sitting at a desk for seven hours straight, I can definitely use the exercise.

As for dinner, I would lie if I didn’t admit to be rather worried by it, but your father is right and we owe him this. Tomorrow it is. I’ll go with your choice of dish. It sounds lovely.

Would you drop me home later? I won’t make you late, I promise. I just want you to kiss me good night.

See you in a little while,

Blaze

P.S. That photo is my phone wallpaper from now on. I love you too.

 


	343. Chapter 343

> Subject: **You never stop impressing me**
> 
> Tue, Dec 22 at 11:23 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

You're one hell of a sparring partner, you know that? How do you do those flips? It's very disconcerting when I'm in the midst of a bout and my opponent suddenly flies nonchalantly over my head. Not to mention your distracting flexibility, which couldn't help but remind me of last weekend and yeah, this is my excuse for how you managed to get my back against the wall tonight. Still no points scored!

I like your apartment. I think I remember you describing it as sterile once, but I find it very calming. Thanks for inviting me up tonight. You seemed a lot less stressed after our workout. And I hope our second workout on the couch provided equal satisfaction. I wasn't about to send you off to bed with just a kiss. Not when your skin was still flushed from our match and radiating heat. It's very important to stretch properly after you spar. I did a good job of helping with that, didn't I?

When I turned the key in your door last Friday and first saw that couch, I was so pleased. It was exactly how I'd pictured it in our letters. I could hear the shower running and I imagined what you were doing in there and I couldn't sit still and wait patiently for you. I paced around the apartment looking at your books, your cacti, your impressive display of knives.

And then you appeared, hair still wet and hanging in your eyes. Wordlessly pushed me back to my place on the couch. When you look up at me through your hair like that it makes me weak, Ignis. Particularly when you've already got me in the palm of your hand and your tongue is running over your lips teasingly…

Still melting,

Your Behemoth

P.S. I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow for dinner, okay?

 


	344. Chapter 344

> Subject: **So relaxed…**
> 
> Wed, Dec 23 at 12:12 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Sparring was a brilliant idea. I do so enjoy our bouts. Of all kinds. And the combination tonight was perfect. I seem to be made of some kind of warm putty right now, and not even the thought of all the work waiting for me in the morning is able to disturb my bliss.

I do feel guilty for taking you away from your family again tonight. I honestly planned on sending you home with a kiss. But I suppose I should have known I was overestimating our self-control. It was too good to regret even a second of it; and if I’m perfectly honest, my bed is rather cold and lonely right now. You’re always so warm.

I’ve been missing you for months, but it feels different now. It has morphed into a much more deep-seated and physical ache for your presence, and I do not mean in a luscious way. Well, not only.

7 sounds good. I’ll get home early to have time for a shower. Be sure to let me know on the way if there are any topics I absolutely have to avoid with your father. I was going to ask you tonight but you distracted me.

I love you. And I miss you. Always.

Blaze

P.S. I'd want to tell you how much brighter and welcoming your presence makes my flat, but you’d probably laugh at me for my cheesiness.

 


	345. Chapter 345

 

 

(Above is a photograph of Signature Blend cognac from Nox Fleuret Estate, crafted in the heart of Tenebrae, and a note that reads, "Sir, First, I’d like to offer my apologies for any distress or unpleasantness I might have brought you or your family. I also want to assure you that my intentions are perfectly honourable. Thank you for the invitation and for opening your home to me. Ignis Scientia.")

 

 

(Above is a photograph of a crocheted chocobo and a note that reads, "Dear Iris, This one is a bit different. However, I hope the moogles can welcome him and be friends with him. Thank you for taking such good care of your brother. Let’s do it together from now on. Ignis.")

 

 

(Above is a photograph of a behemoth figurine and a note that reads, "Dearest, I did not want you to feel left out, so here’s a trinket I found at the refugee cooperative. For reasons that will be obvious to you it reminded me of us. Yours, Ignis.")

 


	346. Chapter 346

> Subject: **I had a lovely time.**
> 
> Wed, Dec 23 at 11:41 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

It was nice to make it home dry; even crossing the sidewalk to get inside the building has been hazardous of late. But it looks like the snow has finally let up. It’s still white everywhere, but the clouds have taken a break. I’m glad if only because it apparently takes a toll on His Majesty to focus on letting the snow pass through the Wall while making sure everything else is still repelled. It’s apparently much harder than rain from what I hear, but letting it build up on the outside would be dangerous too.

Dinner was lovely. Your sister is especially charming, but you don’t need me to tell you that. She enjoys being the Lady of the House, doesn’t she? A role she fulfils wonderfully, I might add. I hope she liked her present. The moogle fiefdom is growing.

Please, convey my thanks for the invitation to your father again. I felt very welcomed and only marginally interrogated. Although I have to admit I have rarely been put on the spot as much as I was when he asked ‘but what do you see in him?’ I tried but I’m not sure I sounded all that coherent. You’d think it would have been an easy answer considering all that comes to my mind right now. I could easily wax lyrical about you for days, but when he asked… I’m not sure what he wanted to hear, and I probably said too much. Not my best performance, darling. I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting him to be quite so blunt. I guess I know where you got it from now.

Also, he didn’t want to hear it, but give my apologies to Jared for quizzing him so relentlessly about his cutlet before I left. It was truly delicious. I added it to my recipe notebook when I got home.

And thank you for driving me back and for that goodnight kiss. I mean no offence to our distinguished company of the evening, but it was my favourite part of it all.

Speaking of, I didn’t want to ask yesterday, not with this family dinner still hanging over us, but hearing you recounting the beginning of our wondrous weekend has left me hungry for you and for more. Would you keep going? Would you tell me what you remember, how you remember it? Like we did when we came back from Dawnigh…

I feel blessed to be able to experience those instants together with you and then again through your words. Every rendition is perfect and beautiful and I’ll never tire of them.

I’m going to be thinking of little else until Friday, so would you accept my invitation? Would you feed my reverie?

In love and dreams,

Blaze

 


	347. Chapter 347

 

 

(above is a page of Ignis's recipe notebook, it reads: 

Breaded cutlet with tomato 

Dec, 23rd 752, Amicitia Residence

[doodle of breaded cutlet in a plate]

Dish recommended by Gladiolus. x

Beautiful combination of colours. Meat remarkably tender. Jared made a suggestion to zip-lock the meat in a bag before tenderising it. Also pointed out one of the pitfalls of the recipe was drying out the meat by prolonged cooking.

Advised 6 to 7 minutes of frying only while turning it over a couple of times.

Overall result was very nicely balanced, if slightly too bland for my palate.

Suggestions for own recipe:

  * Fresh and grated or minced ginger instead of powder
  * Fresh chili puree to add to tomato sauce (½ teaspoon?)
  * Add nutmeg to balance cinnamon?
  * Mince spring onions in cabbage?



(see Jared’s recipe next page ->)

Drink recommendations:

  * Dry white wine (citrus undertones?)
  * Honjozo sake (room temperature)



[doodle of a gladiolus flower])

 


	348. Chapter 348

> Subject: **I'm hoping it rains all weekend so we have an excuse to stay inside**
> 
> Thu, Dec 24 at 7:24 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Mmm, love, I'm sorry I had to send you upstairs with only a kiss last night. It seems a shame, especially when our couch was so close at hand, but formal dinners at House Amicitia do tend to drag on (as you surely know now). I did promise not to interfere with your workweek, and it was already after eleven.

I also had the sneaking suspicion my father would be waiting in his study for my return, and I wasn't wrong. When I tried to walk quietly past the doorway he lifted his head from the newspaper and motioned me inside. Then he stared at me while I stood straight and tried not to fidget (I was still wearing that damnable collar).

"Son," he said finally, "well done."

And went back to his paper. I have to say I was rather impressed by how well you held your own against him during the cognac-and-interrogation portion of the evening. I'm usually reduced to monosyllabic mumbles by that point. No wonder he liked you so much.

Iris's chocobo spent all morning prancing around the breakfast table and nearly knocked over the orange juice twice. Apparently it's been warmly accepted into the fiefdom. She wouldn't shut up about you for five seconds. "Blaze said—" "Blaze thinks—" "Blaze told me—"

If I didn't love you so much, I'd be sick to death of hearing about you by now. As it is, I've just been smiling warmly at her, still starry-eyed, and making sure she gets extra helpings of bacon.

Even Jared was pleased. "Now, that young man knows something about gourmet cuisine," he told me after you left. "I'd say he's a keeper."

But that's enough about my family.

 

***

 

My Blaze, if we're fortunate enough to live until we're old and gray, I'll feel exceedingly grateful to have these letters that record our love story. Let's see, where did I leave us? You'd just pushed me down to the couch. You rucked up my shirt before I could speak, your hands still warm and damp from the shower, and you looked up at me with such an expression of fierce determination that I had to lean forward and press my palm to your cheek. There was uncertainty there too, and it made me think of how adamant you are about doing everything perfectly. I said, "I understood what you meant when you insisted you would thank me properly. But I don't want you doing anything you aren't ready for."

You slid your hands down to my belt buckle. "Gladio, I've been wanting to put my mouth on you since Dawnigh." You unfastened the buckle and pulled the belt all the way out, tossing it aside on the floor, as if simply opening it wasn't enough. That's when I noticed you'd put a cushion under your knees (somehow that little detail had escaped me before) and something about the practicality and intent of the gesture made me weak with lust. I couldn't do anything but stare as you freed my cock, wrapping your fingers round it adoringly. The way you looked at it! Great Astrals, Iggy, I almost came just from watching you handle me with such enthusiasm. Your tongue traced the shape of your lips, wetting them, glistening, and the whole time you met my eyes, so that when you finally moved forward and took me into your mouth, you must have seen my eyelashes tremble with pleasure.

The things you did with your tongue. Are you just naturally proficient at _everything,_ Ignis? Or did you practice secretly with a root vegetable diverted from your pantry? I'd like to watch that…

Anyway, you know what happened next. Maybe you'd rather recall that part yourself. What was it I said, in that letter after our camping trip? Oh, yes.

Tell me about your first time?

 

***

 

When the rain started falling this afternoon, I was outside on the practice field. Noct and I had thought we'd take advantage of the temperate weather and train on the grass. I felt the first drops hit my face and I couldn't believe it. I lifted my face to the sky and started laughing. Noct looked at me like I was crazy, but I couldn't stop. I was so damn _happy._ I thought of all those letters we wrote about the rain. All that longing and frustration we shared. And now I can simply pick up an umbrella and walk over to your place and we can share the rain together instead. I'm a lucky man.

Torrentially,

Your Behemoth

P.S. My dad was very impressed by your liquor selection, could you tell? As for my gift, it’s got a place of honor by my bed. No substitute for you, but it kept me company last night while I dreamed of us being together again this weekend.

 


	349. Chapter 349

> Subject: **I want you to kiss me on the roof under torrential rain.**
> 
> Fri, Dec 25 at 12:06 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Knowing your family approves of me - and of us - is a relief I can’t describe. I know how much they mean to you and I really dreaded what would happen if any of them thought I was not worthy of you. I would have hated to be a source of discontent in your home, and I am delighted to know I wasn’t.

As for my proficiency in all things, I will not tell you my secrets. Letting you imagine what you will is much more entertaining.

And of course, I can take over those recollections of ours.

We used the end of the afternoon wisely, getting reacquainted to each other. You pulled me in your lap for a repeat of that initial communion of ours in Dawnigh. It was good, somewhat familiar, yet still too new to lose its appeal. It was exactly what I needed to relax again, to remember that we were safe now, that all this was okay. We talked and we made out and it all passed in the blink of an eye. I couldn’t believe the time when my kitchen timer interrupted us.

After dinner, we lounged on the couch again. It still felt like a dream to have it there. I think I drifted off for a while - from postprandial torpor and bliss from our rather enthusiastic end-of-afternoon activities, maybe you did too. I don’t remember waking up, I only remember finding myself lost in soft kisses and drawn out caresses. The swaying rhythms of Galahd folk songs I’d put on while we ate still filled the room. It was fitting, a happy backdrop that matched our mood without intruding. You were telling me all we would be able to do from now on, from going back to Dawnigh without needing an excuse to smaller things, like bringing me coffee in the afternoon to make sure I took a break. So many details you’d thought for us, so many promises you made. Yet, I couldn’t let you finish a single one without kissing you; at first because it was too tempting, later because I’d learnt it was a sure way to make you laugh. I couldn’t get enough of how bright your eyes were, of how happy you looked, when you gave up for a moment and leant in to fit your mouth to mine properly.

At some point, you shifted on the couch, let your weight rest on me for an instant. It was all it took. Feeling you like this, solid and warm, watching you content and unguarded, I couldn’t stop myself. It wasn’t enough. I tugged at your tank top and you pulled it off. The cotton obscured your face only for a fleeting second, but your gaze had changed when you looked at me again. It was more intent, focused. It made me shiver.

I drew you to me again. You yielded, let me kiss you as I wanted, but I couldn’t miss how your hands were not wandering aimlessly anymore. Their caresses had gained weight and purpose. Your lips drifted to my neck.

‘Already,’ I thought, certain that the result wouldn’t be easily hidden. But I didn’t mind. On the contrary, I loved that you’d forgotten all about earthly concerns and you only wanted me to feel you and respond to you. And I did. Oh I did. You opened my shirt, pushing the fabric to the side, so you could get your mouth, your teeth on my chest. You knew exactly what you were doing, your hand palming me through my slacks, your teeth grazing parts of me that had never been so sensitive before. I arched up against you, bit my lips but I couldn't keep the sounds in.

‘Let it out, love,’ you said. ‘I love hearing you.’

‘Make me,’ I retorted; I like pushing your buttons too.

‘I can do that.’

Your tone was a touch cocky, but it suited you and I didn’t mind. I still rolled my eyes at you and you laughed.

But you soon got serious again.

‘I want to give you everything,’ you said, your mouth so close to mine I could feel the breath of the words. ‘Anything you want. Tell me.’

‘You made me a promise.’

‘I did. I’ll make good on it too, if you want it.’

‘I do, darling. I really do.’

‘Okay. Just remember we don’t have to go all the way today. We can work up to it.’

‘I know.’

‘You tell me if it gets too much or if you change your mind.’

‘Yes, love.’

‘Good.’

You paused, looked at me as if I was an enigma you were trying to unravel. I could feel my cheeks grow warm under the intensity of your stare.

‘Let’s take this to the bed then. We’ll have more room, can never be too comfortable.’

‘Freely imparting your expertise, are you, darling?’

‘You just wait, I’m going to “impart” much more.’

We were still laughing when we got to the bedroom, but I stopped when you slid my shirt off my shoulders and along my arms. You had that look in your eyes again, that look that makes me feel safe and precious. I want you to look at me like this forever. Maybe you’ll laugh at my sentimentality, but I’d never thought, I’d never hoped... I don’t have words for this. But I trust you’ll understand anyway.

We got rid of what was left of our clothes. You plumped up the pillows against the headboard.

‘Lie down, make sure you’re comfortable.’

‘Anything else?’

You hummed in answer.

‘Not for now. Not this time. You only have to lie there, focus on what you’re feeling and let me take care of you.’

The things your words do to me, darling... I had no choice but to obey.

I thought it’d be embarrassing, you know, being on the receiving end of that kind of attention. But I was surprised by how much it wasn’t, how simple and intimate it was. I can still feel your palms pushing my thighs apart, soothing and reassuring. The gentle touch of your fingers, the pause while you licked at my lips to distract me. But you needed better purchase and angle, and kissed your way down my body, biting my hipbone, nuzzling my groin, rubbing your beard on my stomach. I let you do anything you wanted, focused on controlling my breathing. It was only the beginning.

Discomfort didn’t last, you got deeper and it felt easier, and you found what you were looking for, made me cry out and clench around your fingers. It was too much. I’d done as much myself in the past, but this was nothing like it. It was you, and it was so much more precise and controlled than what I could ever hope to achieve on my own. And so much better.

You enjoyed watching me writhing on the sheets, until I begged you to stop because I wasn’t going to last long enough for you to make good on your promise. You stopped then, released me. You kissed me, and it felt almost like an apology for pushing me so far, until you smiled against my lips and whispered - low and filthy.

‘One day, I’m going to tie you up so you’re not tempted to escape or help, and I’ll make you come with nothing but my fingers inside you. I bet you’d love that.’

I’m not sure how to qualify the sound I made in answer. You were right, I loved the idea. But not that day. We had other plans. It was somewhat intimidating watching you kneel up, get that condom and lube on. Your physique is always impressive, but there’s something to be said for how much more raw and powerful you look when naked.

‘Okay, love?’ you asked.

I hummed softly, reached out for you. It was an odd moment, fascinating and hypnotic. Part of me was still worried, but I wasn’t paying it any mind. I wanted you. More than I could put in words.

‘Deep breaths,’ you said. ‘Focus on staying relaxed for me.’

I didn’t really understand what you meant in Dawnigh when you said it hurt ‘a little, in a good way,’ I thought you tried to reassure me. But I understood then. It’s not really pain, it’s just so much, more and more... on the verge of being too much. And yet, it also creates a breathtaking connection, being so close, so impossibly close. I was lucky I think to do this first with someone I love, rather than for the physical experience. Don’t get me wrong I can see how the physical experience alone is worth it, but there was a transcendental quality to our union at that moment, as if it mirrored all I feel for you in some perfect and impossible way.

You paused then, held me still, peppered my face with kisses, until I opened my eyes again and smiled at you. I had barely realised I’d closed them.

When you moved, it was long, slow, deliberate. Your hand was on the nape of my neck, and you kissed me, deep with each thrust within me. It was good, a smouldering kind of pleasure, crowned by sparks that made me gasp. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t quite smother my reactions against your lips. I could feel you smile in answer, every time.

You didn’t stop but you pulled away from me just enough to speak.

‘You’re enjoying that.’

I knew it wasn’t a question, but I couldn't quite stop myself from replying anyway.

‘What was your first clue?’

You ground into me a touch harder, smiled wider when my eyes fluttered and I dug my nails in your shoulder.

‘That,’ you said. ‘But wait, I’m going to make you forget your sassy comebacks next.’

You hooked one of my legs in your arm, drew it up towards my chest. I wasn’t prepared for how much deeper it allowed you to sink into me. I thought... I thought we were already as close as we could be, but I was wrong. Suddenly I could feel so much more of you. It burnt white in my mind. I think I might have cried out. I’m not sure.

I do remember the swear you let out, in what sounded like surprise rather than pleasure.

‘Fuck.’

I had a moment of mild panic then, wondering what had happened, what I’d done.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

You looked at me, and you must have seen the concern on my face, because you shook your head reassuringly.

‘Nothing’s wrong, babe. Nothing at all. I just...’

You had my ankle in your hand then, and seemed to take much glee in how easy it was for you to push my leg in the mattress by my head.

‘How...’

‘What?’

‘I knew you were flexible, but... this is incredible. I didn’t think you were _that_ flexible.’

‘Surprise.’

‘We’re going to have so much fun, love.’

The expression on your face was downright goofy by that point. That chuckle of yours was making you shake and did interesting - if frustratingly short-lived - things to my body.

‘I’m glad you approve, but I was already having fun; right before you got distracted,’ I had to point out.

‘You’re right. Sorry,’ you said, and you kissed me in apology. ‘You’re amazing.’

You pointedly dropped my leg on your shoulder with a smirk, and hooked the other one in the crook of your elbow. It dawned on me then how pinned down I was under you, how all I could do was take what you wanted to give. And I marvelled - like I did so many weeks ago in Dawnigh - at how right it felt, how much I felt cared for rather than threatened.

It’s only when you started moving again that I realised how perfect the angle you’d twisted me into was. I hardly minded the workout, it wasn’t exactly a challenging stretch, but feeling you, feeling how exquisite and simple it had all become, how you could rock into me and my body matched your rhythm naturally, effortlessly, I was grateful for my flexibility too. From the low, strangled sounds that escaped you, you were also enjoying it. That’s something I’ve learnt from you, how pleasure is twofold; one physical and one of deep-seated satisfaction at knowing I have a hand - and other body parts - in making you feel pleasure with me. The combination is so much sweeter than the sum of its parts.

You didn’t keep it slow this time, it was gradual but you picked up the pace enough that we couldn’t kiss anymore. Not properly, but we could still brush lips, and exchange curses and I-love-you’s. Until we couldn’t. Until each thrust pushed me a bit further up the bed, despite the grip you had on me, and my hands couldn’t just wander across your back, your shoulders, into your hair. I had to hold onto you. I put my arms around your neck, arched my spine, and oh sweet ice mother... I’d barely done it, that you groaned and drove into me harder, and I... I don’t know. I hid my face in your neck, clung to you as closely as I could. Nothing made sense. Only the need for more. More. More. I couldn’t think of anything else. I think I was begging by this point. More. And you gave it to me. Gave me everything. It felt too much, yet not enough all at once.

And I want to apologise for what I said about my neighbour’s stamina, because I was wrong. No-one compares to you. And damn, love... I thought I could wait until I was done writing this to take care of my rather flustered state, but I had to stop here. I had to give myself some relief, because remembering you, like this, inside of me, that desperate pursuit for completion, your voice in my ear, raw and shaky...

‘Touch yourself.’

It took me an embarrassing while to understand what you meant. I was so gone. But when I did, the thought nearly pushed me over the edge.

‘Now, love. I can’t...’ you said, again. Begging. Almost in anguish.

I obeyed then. But I don’t know what did it, the hand that I sneaked between us to cradle myself against my stomach, or the unmistakable moan you let out and the faltering rhythm of your hips as you tried to get impossibly deeper.

Finally, you stilled, dropped your forehead to mine and we caught our breath together. I let go of your neck, let my hand drift in your hair, along your beard. You were burning, glistening with sweat. You looked exhausted and were the most beautiful sight I ever laid eyes on.

You released my legs, and I pulled you down, licked the sweat off your brow, kissed your eyelids, fitted my mouth to yours and used what little air I had painstakingly gathered to try and show you all I felt.

‘I love you,’ I added anyway, because it deserved to be said.

‘So much,’ you replied. And you kissed me again.

What do you think, love? Does it do your own recollections justice?

It was perfect. I love you. And I can’t wait to do it all over again. Also you have a new promise to keep and the scarf is waiting for you on my dresser.

Missing you, wanting you,

Blaze

 


	350. Chapter 350

> Subject: **It’s a promise. I’m glad you’re keeping count; they’re adding up quickly…**
> 
> Fri, Dec 25 at 10:49 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Dear Blaze,

It’s too bad the skies seem to be clearing up. But we can share as many showers at your apartment as we want now, and that might be even more fun, since they don’t require clothes. Not to say I wouldn’t enjoy stripping you to the skin in a rainstorm. But the _Insomnia Daily_ would have a field day with that, and I don’t think Noct would appreciate our naked paparazzi shots splashed all over the front page.

No, a shower will suffice quite nicely. Remember the first one? Last Sunday, after our strip poker game, when you stepped out for supplies. I have no idea how we went through an entire box of condoms that quickly— I’m sorry, that’s not true. I know exactly how we went through an entire box of condoms that quickly. Speaking of which, let me backtrack to the poker game. Definitely in my top five favorite activities last weekend. You become quite a little minx when you get some liquor in you, if you don’t mind my saying so. (I didn’t mind either.) We were eating pancakes in bed, getting syrup all over your sheets and not caring in the slightest, and you were telling that story about teaching the boys to gamble when our eyes suddenly met, like some terribly romantic moment from a film, except instead of saying something profound we both grinned wildly and said, “Strip. Poker,” at exactly the same time.

I mean, yeah, going up against Ignis Scientia in poker? Do I have a death wish? I think I was counting on distracting you with my subtle charms, but there I was, down to my baseball cap and my wrist guard and the necklace resting against my chest, and you sat there smirking at me still in your socks and everything. You’d won my socks, my hoodie, and my belt in quick succession. You took two shots when I lost my hoodie, one from my wrist and one from the hollow of my throat. When I lost my shirt I pulled it off slowly, swinging it around one finger, and said, “Where do you want to take that shot, then?”

You eyed me thoughtfully. “Right or left nipple? How to choose?” I ended up flat on my back, you straddling me, and you licked both, sprinkled me with salt, took a quick shot of _madhu,_ and licked me again, biting lightly this time, before you plucked the wedge of lemon from my mouth and squeezed it into yours. The entire process was unbearably erotic. I groaned and squirmed under you.

“Do it again.”

“You wish.” You pinched my nipple and climbed off.

“How am I supposed to concentrate on my cards after that?” I complained, sitting up.

“Well, that’s part of the strategy, darling, isn’t it?” You blew me a kiss and settled back on your haunches to deal.

Even with three shots in you—and I could see you weren’t accustomed to drinking that quickly—you won the next hand with ease, and spread out your winning cards with a slightly unsteady flourish. I unfastened my wallet chain with a sigh and dropped it in the pile.

Then I lost my pants.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumbled, pulling them off. “This is ridiculous. Where did you learn these rules, anyway? Usually the loser has to drink.”

“I had to give you a fighting chance,” you pointed out. And you leaned down to take a long, sweet lick of my cock before you threw back another shot. I was beginning to feel slightly concerned; your usually pale cheeks were flushed bright pink. I figured if I was going to distract you I’d better make my play sooner than later.

We were both sitting on your bed—well, you were sitting, still primly upright, despite all those shots. I was sprawled sideways, propped up on one elbow, and I couldn’t help but notice, love, that you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at my naked body, and specifically my cock. So I began to stroke it, languorously, with my hand that wasn’t holding the cards; and there went your poker face. The next few hands you dealt went in my favor, and in rapid succession you lost your socks, your pants, your stays, and your shirt. Now that it was my turn, I took my time teasing your nipples before taking my first shot. You arched under me and your lashes fluttered.

“That’s not _fair.”_

“Yeah, that’s what I said when it was me on my back, but the gamemaster explained that it’s all part of the strategy,” I said cheerfully. “Where’s my lemon?” You stuck it in your mouth and frowned at me, a rather impressive feat with your lips around the wedge.

Winning the next two hands was a struggle, but there went your gloves and your scarf. I spent an excessive amount of time, I admit, on your left wrist. Finally I took my third shot from your bare clavicle and allowed you to sit up. I have a fairly decent tolerance for alcohol, but I was beginning to feel it.

You pushed the bottle aside. “You’ve had enough,” you said.

“Oh, not nearly enough, darling,” I purred, grasping you by the shoulders; and I’m afraid our game deteriorated rather quickly thereafter. You did end up losing your underwear, one way or another. We couldn’t agree on who’d won the game, so we decided we were both owed a forfeit, and in the end both parties were fully sated in compliance with the rules we’d set down that morning. (For a novice, Ignis, you suck cock like a godsbedamned artist. How is it you’re so exceptionally talented at everything you do? I’d be envious if I weren’t the very grateful beneficiary.)

So that takes us up to the urgent need for more condoms, and your excursion to the store. After we finished texting I put the phone down and sniffed myself. You were right: I needed a shower. I mean of course I'd had one Saturday while you were preparing the pancake batter for the next morning, but we'd worked up quite a sweat.

Your bathroom is spacious for a single apartment; Sania helped you choose well when she found that place for you. I’d noted the shower on Friday, big enough for both of us, with a wide swinging glass door instead of the usual tub and curtain that I surely would have torn down in a clumsy fit of misguided athleticism. I picked from a variety of shampoo bottles at random. It turned out to be lightly scented with aegir and nutmeg. I was soaping my hair slowly, taking my time because I didn’t want to finish before you got back from the store, and daydreaming of you, when I heard your soft rap on the glass door before you opened it and stepped inside.

“I’ll take over from here,” you said, and pushed me gently down to sit on the recessed shower bench. You tilted my head back so the soap wouldn’t run into my eyes and began massaging my scalp. The sensation was delicious. I don’t remember anyone washing my hair before. I closed my eyes and melted under your hands. After a while you removed the sprayer from its fixture and held it close to my hair, washing the suds away carefully, and after you replaced it I opened my eyes and looked up in total adoration. Your chest was right before me and I kissed it.

“I love you, Ignis,” I said.

“I love you, Gladio.” You pulled me against you. I pulled you down to my lap. Your hair was wet and hanging in your eyes, just like when we went swimming at Dawnigh. Our mouths fit together like we’d never been apart. You were slippery and wet and warm in my arms. The water fell all around us and it was better than any fantasy, you, my Blaze, my one desire, the fire of my heart. I still can’t believe you’re really mine now, no more hiding, no more confusion and misunderstandings, simply mine, and I yours, for as long as you’ll have me. Forever, I hope.

Anyway, I read your letter this morning when I got to work and immediately made up an excuse to postpone my eleven o’clock and write to you instead, because of course I did. And you ask if you did my recollections justice! Sweet mother Eos, you’ve described that miraculous shared bliss in a way I could never have put into words. You know, Blaze, somehow I imagined once we were officially an item I’d do less jerking off. Doesn’t seem to be happening that way. (I’m not complaining.) Can’t wait to see you tonight.

Saturated,

Your Behemoth

 


	351. Chapter 351

 

 

Today at 2:45 PM

[IGNIS]: Hey, darling. Funny story.

[IGNIS]: I went to the University’s library this morning. I needed some strategy treatise as a reference for my work. It’s a rather obscure text so I had to go dig it out of the reserve.

[IGNIS]: I got my book, but I also found a very enlightening and entertaining read that I took home with me.

[IGNIS]: I wonder if you might have come across it before. A remarkably ardent argumentation in favour of ‘social safety nets’?

[GLADIO]: Oh no

[GLADIO]: Nooooooo

[GLADIO]: Iggy you didn't

[IGNIS]: It’s really quite good.

[IGNIS]: I quote ‘income inequality should be of concern to all social classes, or at least to those of its members who claim to care about justice and honor.’

[IGNIS]: Such an idealistic view of the world.

[IGNIS]: And I hear the author is quite privileged himself. I am rather impressed by his egalitarian if naive societal aspirations.

[GLADIO]: I never thought anyone would read it! I don't think even my advisor read it!

[GLADIO]: This is so embarrassing

[IGNIS]: I’ll tell you what it is. It’s hot. You have competition, darling. I want to meet that young man.

[IGNIS]: ‘Where is the honor in a system that privileges those who labor least?’

[IGNIS]: Such a perfectly phrased question. I should raise it in Council.

[IGNIS]: I can do that now.

[GLADIO]: Why do you love to torment me

[IGNIS]: I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just sharing an interesting read, darling.

[IGNIS]: I know you have strong interests in nutrition.

[IGNIS]: ‘It does little good to tell people they ought to be eating differently if our system of food distribution makes that difficult for those who could benefit most from better nutrition.’ He has a point.

[IGNIS]: I’m starting to think I could get off listening to that articulate, yet utopian - borderline romantic - vision of his.

[IGNIS]: How about I read you the rest when you come over later?

[GLADIO]: Cruel Blaze. You really would have to tie me down. How about I wrestle you to the ground and sit on your chest while I read it to you? In my slowest and most monotonous voice? Until you're begging for mercy

[GLADIO]: I do enjoy hearing you beg

[IGNIS]: Hm. I could tie you up.

[IGNIS]: Or we could go with that other option of yours, but I doubt it will lead to me begging. I mean it, darling. I enjoyed that glimpse into your youthful and radical leanings. And seeing you read it, the colour raising to your cheeks at the most outrageous propositions, the enthusiasm that will transpire in your voice despite your best intentions because you care, the hesitation you won’t be able to hide when you remember how close to lese-majesty you came in those pages.

[IGNIS]: Oh no, love, I won’t beg. I’ll enjoy every second of it. I’ll lie under you, smoothing your thighs under my palms, feeling your muscles tense as I massage them. ‘Go on,’ I’ll urge you on.

[IGNIS]: And then after a while I’ll reach up and unbutton your pants. You won’t have any underwear on, and I’ll close my hand around you.

[IGNIS]: ‘Keep reading,’ I’ll say, encouraging your flesh to harden under my careful ministrations.

[IGNIS]: Would you like that, darling?

[GLADIO]: Dammit, Iggy, Noct will be here any minute

[GLADIO]: And here he is

[GLADIO]: Please think of me suffering through the next hour with a raging hard-on because against all previously held beliefs, I found that suggestion of yours confusingly arousing

[GLADIO]: Thanks a lot, idealistic young me. I dedicate this practice to you

[IGNIS]: Don’t hurt yourself.

[IGNIS]: I’ll be sympathetic and keep myself hot and bothered for you as long as you promise to get here as soon as you can after you’re done with practice.

[IGNIS]: And I think deep down you’re still that idealistic youth. And I love you for it.

[IGNIS]: I’ll be waiting.

 


	352. Chapter 352

 

 

Today at 4:02 PM

[IGNIS]: [photo of a white silk scarf lying on a bed]

[GLADIO]: On my way

 


	353. Chapter 353

 

 

(Above is a newspaper advertisement for Rin's Travel Agency with a cute cartoon of a chocobo. The text reads, "Looking for escape from the city life? Stressed out? Give us a call now! Impromptu bookings welcome. Lovely rides all year round!" The agency is located less than an hour from Insomnia City at the Al-Bhed crossroad, Northern Outskirts, and its welfare standards are certified by the Hunter Guild.)

 


	354. Chapter 354

> Subject: **I thought you’d enjoy seeing this.**
> 
> Sat, Dec 26 at 2:50 PM
> 
> From: Ignis.Scientia@HRH.gov.lux
> 
> To: deadoralive@eosmail.com

 

Dear Prompto,

Gladiolus and I were woken up by clear skies this morning and decided to go on a lovely if impromptu outing. I opened the daily paper with my morning coffee and stumbled upon a fated advert about all-year-round chocobo riding at a nearby post. I pointed it out - mostly as a joke, but Gladio smiled, grabbed his phone, and half an hour later we were on our way to what proved to be a charming experience.

Knowing how much you love chocobos, I thought you’d enjoy seeing this picture the post owner took for us. It’s a gorgeous place and I thought maybe I could organise for you and Noct to go there in the spring as the landscape will lend itself better to artistic photography then. The owner said you can gallop through meadows full of flowers and glide over cascading streams that only appear when the ice is melting high in the mountains. I found a tourist brochure that explained how popular the area was with romantic painters during the last century, in part because of how pure the sky and light usually stay around these parts. I know you’d make the most of it.

I hope you can forgive me for coming on a bit strongly during that face to face conversation we had a few weeks ago. The circumstances being what they were, I had to make sure you understood the gravity of the situation and the severe consequences betraying our secret could have. I told you then and I will say it again now, I had no doubt you could be relied on to protect us. I only wanted to explain and I do apologise for scaring you so.

I also wanted to thank you for all the support and help you no doubt provided Noctis with his well-meaning meddling. He is lucky to have found you, and I don’t think I ever told you how grateful I am that you put the time and effort to befriend him and get to know him for who he is beneath the titles and the defensive moodiness.

Gladiolus and I plan on taking Iris to the zoo tomorrow. Noct is game, and we’d love for you to join us as well. Just let me know if you fancy coming with us and we’ll pick you up at your flat around 10.30am.

In appreciation and friendship,

Ignis

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Raufnir](http://expectogladiolus.tumblr.com) for allowing us to use this gorgeous screen cap.


	355. Chapter 355

 

 

Today at 3:08 PM

[GLADIO]: Look, Peaches, I made some new friends

[GLADIO]: [photo of multicolored chocobos]

[IRIS]: Oh! Such pretty colors!! Will you bring me a feather?

[GLADIO]: Of course. Hey, if you don’t have plans tomorrow, do you want to go to the zoo with me and Iggy and Noct and Prompto? Around ten or so?

[IRIS]: Yes!!!!!

[IRIS]: I’ll bring my sketching pencils.

 


	356. Chapter 356

 

 

(Above is a poster for a movie titled "House of the Flying Chef Knives," with an image of a tonberry brandishing a pair of knives while several silhouetted figures go flying in the background.)

 


	357. Chapter 357

 

 

(Above is a gif of rain falling in the street at night, reflecting the city lights.)

 


	358. Chapter 358

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> This chapter contains explicit artwork that is **Not Safe For Work.**
> 
> Please view with caution if you're somewhere that people can see your screen!
> 
> Thank you so much to Lishtar ([@Dyslexiac](http://twitter.com/dyslexiac) on Twitter) for this beautifully delicious illustration of Gladio and Ignis's Saturday evening.
> 
>  
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	359. Chapter 359

> Subject: **You’re the partner I didn’t even know I needed when I answered that ad**
> 
> Sun, Dec 27 at 5:47 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

My sweetest love, my Blaze—

I write this as you lie sleeping beside me. It’s such a rare occasion that instead of going back to sleep myself, I’ve been sitting here for a quarter of an hour, watching the soft light of early morning paint your hair in silver and gold. And I wanted to set down my memories of last night before the edges blurred with time.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get over the gratitude I feel at being allowed the small pleasures most couples take for granted. Coming home from our ride, sunburnt and happy, sharing a simple meal at your kitchen table, choosing a movie together from the newspaper ads. I don’t remember much of the plot, of course, because we sat in the very last row where we made out during all the dialogue and only separated our lips long enough to watch the best parts of the fighting. Afterwards we started walking back to your place, and you’d just launched into a very detailed analysis of the tonberry method of knife handling when the sky opened up. It had been perfectly clear and unseasonably warm when we’d left your apartment. We didn’t have umbrellas, and you were only wearing a thin sweater, and I’d forgotten my hoodie. My tank top was drenched immediately and your sweater clung to your body. I had to kiss you. Then your hands were under the wet fabric of my shirt and I shoved you back against a shop window, harder than I’d meant to, claiming your mouth with mine. Headlights flashed by through the heavy sheets of rain but we were hidden in the shadow of the overhang and your hands grew bolder, slipping down the back of my pants. We were both panting, you pressed against the glass, my body blocking you from the worst of the rain.

“We have to get home. Now,” you said, between kisses. “I want you _now.”_ We sprinted a few blocks, exhilarated and laughing, before we had to stop for another quick round. But we made it back to your apartment somehow, and you fumbled for your keys while I tried to peel your sweater off, and when we fell through the door together I pushed you towards the couch. You stood your ground; I forget sometimes how strong you are. It thrills me every time I remember.

“Wait for me in the bedroom, and take off your clothes,” you said, and headed for the bathroom, stripping your sweater and tossing it as you went. The deliberate carelessness was a signal. I heard the shower go on and I felt my pulse speed up. _Oh. Yes._

In your bedroom, the white silk scarf was lying on the bed, waiting.

I’d forgotten; can you believe that? After your text Friday afternoon? How could I forget something like that? But we’d had so much fun with our silly games about my thesis, and we stayed up way too late eating popcorn and watching terrible television, and we both fell asleep curled around each other on the couch. But you’d had it all planned out, hadn’t you?

 

***

 

It was different than waiting for you last Friday on the couch. Then I was eager but patient, knowing what was to come, that I would be the more experienced partner, reminding myself to be gentle with you and give you an experience that would be worth remembering later. This time I felt the balance of control had shifted. All it took was a white scarf lying on the bed.

I waited, my rain-soaked hair dripping onto my bare shoulders, and after a while you emerged from the bathroom in a towel. You pulled it from your waist, dried your hands, dropped it to the carpet. “I missed you, Iggy,” I growled; I was so hard it hurt.

“Patience builds character, darling.” You went to your dresser and drew on your gloves. My breath caught in my throat. Do you have any idea how stunning you were then? Naked of any ornamentation but those silver gloves? I began to stand up, to go to you—I couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d tried—but you gave me a push and said, “Slide up against the pillows,” and that soft note of command in your voice undid me.

You picked up the scarf and made a neat bow with one end around the headboard. Then you laced your fingers in mine, very gently, and lifted my hand up over my head. I thought of all the teasing letters we’d written, all those playful words. The reality of it was inexpressibly more intimate. I watched you wrapping the white silk around my wrist, turn by turn, and with each loop I relaxed more deeply into the pillows. “I told you I would give you my first time, remember?” I murmured.

You kissed my cheek. “Of course, dearest.” Then you tucked the end under to secure it. I tugged lightly and felt its resistance. A good yank would have unraveled the whole thing, but that was beside the point. Or almost _was_ the point. We both knew I was willingly bound. My participation in my own bondage was part of the game.

“What do you want?”

I couldn’t find the words. “I love you,” I whispered, because that’s what my head was full of. You stroked a gloved finger down my cheek.

“I love you too. No evasions this time. What do you want?” You settled your weight upon me more heavily, and my hips jerked up, seeking contact.

“I want to watch you…”

“Better. Still not good enough. Watch me do what?”

I twisted under your glove, hot and aching, the silk firm against my wrist. “Watch you enjoy yourself. Ride me. Take your pleasure and forget about mine. _Please,_ Iggy,” and I bucked under you, reaching out with my free hand to caress your hip. You smiled and leaned down, pressing your forehead against mine.

“You want to watch me tame an Amicitia.” And you lifted yourself up to grasp me firmly and guide me between your legs.

 

***

 

I promised I would give you a first time, and so I have. I remember sitting on the roof, all those months ago, trying to find the words to explain it, back when I was only Behemoth and you were Blaze. I had no idea then how well we would fit together. How you would understand what I desired, what I needed, without any further explanation. When we were done, when you unlaced the scarf and turned my hand to kiss the underside of my wrist, I loved you so much, Ignis. I love you so much now, seeing the play of morning light across your face, one arm thrown wide and relaxed, and the towel still lying on the floor. I hope you had as much fun last night as I did.

Helplessly tangled, willingly, forever,

Your Behemoth

 


	360. Chapter 360

> Subject: **Dudes, we make a good team**
> 
> Sun, Dec 27 at 6:22 PM
> 
> From: deadoralive@eosmail.com
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com; kupokupo@eosmail.com; Ignis.Scientia@HRH.gov.lux; Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

Okay so first off, props to Iggy for suggesting it and big thanks to all you guys for showing me such an awesome time. I have never been that close to a catoblepas before and it kicked ass!!! Someday I wanna get right up next to one and get a better shot but that was freaking amazing. Iris, sorry again about bumping into you and making you drop your ice cream but I hope the triple-scoop replacement made up for it. Anyway here’s the selfie I took of us and the anaks. I’m going to print it in photo lab tomorrow and hang it on the wall. Peace out my bros!!!!!

 

 


	361. Chapter 361

> Subject: **Re: Dudes, we make a good team**
> 
> Sun, Dec 27 at 7:04 PM
> 
> From: kupokupo@eosmail.com
> 
> To: deadoralive@eosmail.com; tackleandbait@eosmail.com; Ignis.Scientia@HRH.gov.lux; Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

Omigosh Prompto of course I forgive you!!! It was an accident!!!!! And I was almost done anyway when I dropped it so I believe I ended up getting 3.75 scoops which is definitely respectable. My favorite part was the mus who were absolutely holding hands, I don’t care if you guys say I imagined it, and my second favorite part was when we caught Gladdy and Iggy making out under the waterfall and Noct teased them all afternoon because that never happens. Sorry Gladdy but it was hilarious!!! I love you all so much xoxoxoxo and thank you for inviting me. I am working on a drawing of the mus and I’ll share it when I’m done but it is not ready yet. 

Sincerely,

Iris Amicitia

 


	362. Chapter 362

> Subject: **Fine, you can be my official retinue.**
> 
> Sun, Dec 27 at 7:32 PM
> 
> From: tackleandbait@eosmail.com
> 
> To: deadoralive@eosmail.com; kupokupo@eosmail.com; Ignis.Scientia@HRH.gov.lux; Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

We had a great time, didn’t we? Even if some of us know how to behave in public better than others.

I can’t wait for your drawing of the mus, Iris! And did you hear the zoo lady saying they expect a couple of litters in the spring? We’ll have to go back.

The seadevils were my favourite though. Did you see the teeth on those things??? Was sick. I bet they can cut a man in two in a single bite. It’s a shame they probably wouldn’t find magitek soldiers appetising. Imagine an army of sea devils just chomping away at everything on the battlefield. Easy win.

The pic came out great, Prom! Print me a couple of copies. I’ll hang one in the apartment and give the other to my dad. He’s always complaining I don’t tell him anything. It’ll give us something to talk about. And then he can look at how disgustingly happy Gladio and Iggy are and I can go ‘I told you so.’ It’ll be a great moment.

Let’s do it again! But with hot chocolate next time, ice cream in December. You people are crazy. :P

N.

 


	363. Chapter 363

> Subject: **A lovely day indeed.**
> 
> Sun, Dec 27 at 8:12 PM
> 
> From: Ignis.Scientia@HRH.gov.lux
> 
> To: tackleandbait@eosmail.com; deadoralive@eosmail.com; kupokupo@eosmail.com; Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux

 

Dear all,

Allow me to convey my gratitude for the delightful company today and for all the support you have shown Gladiolus and me over the past few months.

Although, I have to say, begrudging other people’s happiness doesn’t become you, Noctis. Besides, you should reflect on the fact that if you’re going to be making fun of us regardless, you leave us with very little incentive to spare your sensibilities. As you most certainly have noticed when we abandoned any attempt at discretion.

Also, I would advise against trying to get the upper hand with your father. I hear from Cor it didn’t go all that well last time. Even if the ultimate outcome was in your - and our - favour.

Prompto, that picture came out really nicely. I can’t wait to see the others you took. I hope you can make an album and share it.

Iris, I’m really looking forward to the drawing. The mus were adorable and I’m sure you will capture their likeness with your usual brio.

I definitely vote for doing this again. Going back to see the baby mus is a good goal.

With all my thanks,

Ignis

 


	364. Chapter 364

> Subject: **Re: A lovely day indeed.**
> 
> Sun, Dec 27 at 9:06 PM
> 
> From: Gladiolus.Amicitia@HRH.gov.lux
> 
> To: Ignis.Scientia@HRH.gov.lux; tackleandbait@eosmail.com; deadoralive@eosmail.com; kupokupo@eosmail.com

 

Hi everyone, I’ve been watching your emails pop up all night on my phone and trying to compose a response in my head. You guys know I’m not much for big speeches (well, Iggy might disagree, ha ha). But I owe you all a debt that I hope I can repay someday.

Prompto, thank you for taking that photo at the masquerade ball that sparked Noct’s curiosity. Yeah, he told me about it. I’d love to get a copy of that photo, by the way. Could I make a contribution to your lab fees in exchange for a few prints?

Iris, thank you for your clever detective work in figuring out the identity of my masked suitor. I’m sorry I wasn’t more appreciative at the time. Let’s take another trip outside the Wall soon for a picnic and some flower gathering.

Noct, I underestimated you. You went to extraordinary lengths these past months to find out why Iggy and I were behaving so oddly and to bring us a solution, at risk to yourself and with no personal benefit other than pleasing us. I’m honored to call you not just my dear prince and liege but more importantly, a true friend.

Ignis, thank you for taking the chance on an arrogant physical trainer who threatened to turn your life upside down just by answering a classified ad in the paper. (Iris knows this story already; Noct, Prompto, has he told you yet? If not, harangue him until he does. He’ll hesitate, but I know he’ll enjoy telling the tale once you get him going. It’s disgustingly romantic.)

The road may have been rocky, but there’s no one else I would rather have traveled it with. If any of you ever need me, I’ll do everything in my power to make you as happy as you’ve made me.

In friendship and love,

Gladiolus Amicitia

 


	365. Chapter 365

> Subject: **You’re all I hoped for and a good deal more.**
> 
> Mon, Dec 28 at 10:08 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

I was told this morning that the ceremony is definitely going ahead on Thursday. It’s auspicious, I suppose, to have it all done in time for the new year to start. I was ordered to the royal tailor just before lunch despite my protestations that they had my measurements on record and that I had much to do. Apparently, uniforms require more careful and diverse mensurations. Or so I’m told.

Anyway, it is done. Are you up for another sparring session tomorrow night? If you can spare the time, it would be good to turn it into a habit, less chance for me to fall asleep at my desk this way. Besides, I must maintain my flexibility for some other physical activities I plan on partaking in as often as I can.

Which reminds me, I wanted to thank you, not only for another lovely weekend, but also for being so understanding when I told you I had to work for a while on Saturday afternoon. I knew you wouldn’t think ill of me for it, but I still felt guilty at robbing us of that time together. But you know, thinking back, I loved those moments. It might sound odd, but being able to look up from my dining table, surrounded by folders and notebooks as always, and see you there lounging on the couch with your book was incredibly soothing. The simplicity, domesticity of it felt more impossible than having you in my bed or in my shower. That degree of relaxation and comfort, the feeling that you belonged there with me so completely, I never let myself dream we could be together like this. I often fantasised about your lips, your hands, your skin against mine. Beautiful stolen moments, wrenched from fate. But this was different, it was you being mine in a paradoxically much more intimate way than you ever had.

It all added together. I stared at you, absorbed in your book, rubbing absently at your beard, your feet on the armrest close to a dent in the upholstery. I could still see it, the place you’d gripped the cushion the night before, when you bent over the couch and begged me to fuck you with that roguish look in your eyes. I remembered the sounds you made, my name tumbling from your lips, a blessed litany mixed with moans - some mine, some yours, following that beautiful, loud and unapologetic rhythm of skin meeting skin. And there you were in front of me, lost in your reading, and all of it was mine. All the instants, all the memories. The feverish ones and the peaceful ones. All of it.

You noticed me staring at some point, but you didn’t tease me for it, even when I was the one who asked for time to work. You just smiled, soft and loving; the kind of smile that always makes my heart skip a beat. You waved your book.

‘It’s pretty good so far. I’ll let you know if it’s worth reading once I’ve finished it.’

‘Thank you,’ I said and I meant it. The past few months have given me a taste for entertaining fiction, all your doing. 

I went back to work, feeling more serene than I had all week. You got up at some point, made me tea and asked for a kiss in exchange. A price I was more than happy to pay. You didn’t push though, kept it soft and chaste to not pull me out of my working trance; yet, it was enough to make me feel a rush of happiness in the middle of stern reports and treatises.

You got busy in the kitchen and soon the sound of sizzling and the smell of garlic and ginger filled the kitchen. You came back a little while later, your hands settling on my shoulders. A pleasant, steadying weight. Your fingers massaged my neck and I melted under your touch. You laughed.

‘Interesting. I’ll have to give you a real massage at some point.’

‘Promise?’

‘Sure. But we should eat, love. Or we’re going to be late for the movie.’

We’d made plans when we came back from the chocobo ride. It made me feel better about work, knowing I wouldn’t be able to get lost in it all the way I sometimes do. Although I doubt I would have, not when my longing for you is so intense and ever growing as soon as you’re away from me, even if only across the room. I tidied my work away.

The stir-fry you made was simple but perfectly cooked, the vegetables just the right side of crunchy. The salmon seized and tender, but not overdone. I was impressed. Your culinary talents are better than you let on, or maybe you just have good instincts. I’m curious to see how good exactly, we definitely have to cook something together, darling.

But anyway, where were we? Oh yes, being drenched by the rain and running home. You still owe me a kiss in the rain on the roof. I’m not letting you off with our Saturday ones, as lovely as they were.

I sent you to the bedroom. The scarf was on the bed and I wondered what you would think when you saw it. I’d stared at it for a moment earlier, when I was getting dressed to go out, brushed my fingers against it in promise. I wasn’t sure of what exactly, but I knew I wouldn’t let another night pass without putting it to good use.

I tried to hurry in the shower, I wanted to get back to you. But it turns out some things cannot be rushed. I was freezing too and the hot water was a blessing, but my thoughts burnt even hotter. It is odd how natural and intimate this particular exercise seems when we share it; yet, when I tackle it alone it feels much more libertine, makes blood rush to my cheeks as well as the more obvious body parts. But there’s a sacred dimension to it too. Kneeling in the shower, getting ready for you, I felt myself turning into an offering, my body and my mind coming together to become a willing oblation to you and to our love.

But I knew it wasn’t enough. I knew you craved more than a gift. I remembered those letters from so long ago, how you hinted at those desires of yours you could barely bring yourself to acknowledge. I wanted to give it to you, anything, everything you desired. By the time I stepped out of the shower, my body empty and aching, swallowing the clear taste of desire that flooded my mouth at the thought of you, I knew what the scarf would be for tonight.

I wasn’t improvising, of course. I’d looked up days ago the safe way to bind someone, making sure that the scarf was appropriate, learning how to tie knots and use loops so traction would only tighten the fabric around the fixed end and not around your wrist. I wasn’t risking anything on our fantasies, as lovely as they were. I realised quickly that this length of silk could probably bind one limb properly, with enough loops and padding to be comfortable. I thought then that we might need to get a few more, so our options would be more extensive, but not yet… I wasn’t going to cheapen what that one scarf represented for us by making it one of many. Besides, it gave me an idea I became rather fond of. And I had a feeling you would enjoy it too.

You described those first few moments too well for me to go over them again. The look on your face when I lowered myself onto you is seared into my mind, a mix of hunger and awe, and hard fought control. I trust it’ll become easier with time, but even with my careful preparation, taking you in wasn’t easy. You waited for me, patiently, perfectly still except for biting your lip for a moment when I smeared lube on you with deliberate slowness. Your free hand was on my hip, a steadying and undemanding presence.

When I was finally sitting against you, I shut my eyes, arched my back to encourage you to slide in me as deep as you could. I put a hand on your thigh to keep the stretch for a moment; it was slowly getting more enjoyable. You made a strangled noise then, like a broken word.

I opened my eyes just enough to watch you, lying there under me.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ you said.

I laughed.

‘Thank you, darling.’

‘You have no idea. You’re so fucking perfect.’

Your thumb was tracing slow, tender circles on my skin. It was soothing, but it also reminded me of what I wanted to do next. I took your wrist, leant forward - and damn that first drag of you inside me as I moved, love… it still makes me shiver thinking about it, snug in all the right places. I brought your hand over your head, closed your fingers around the scarf that tied your other arm up. Understanding dawned on you, your eyes widened and for a moment there was a veil of uncertainty on your features.

‘Don’t let go. Not until I tell you.’

You swallowed, hesitated for an instant before nodding. Maybe you doubted yourself in that moment, but I didn’t. I knew you wanted it. The scarf was a helpful reminder of your position but it was hardly a real bond, not for you anyway. What would keep you chained was how much you wanted to give me control over you, nothing else.

I kissed you then, and it was perfect. You lifted yourself from the pillows to meet me - I felt your stomach tensing under me, hard as iron. You fought for control of the kiss, bit me softly, made clear you gave me what I asked for, but nothing more. The rest I had to tame as I promised.

I took my time exploring, experimenting. This was new territory for me, and getting more pleasant with each long minute spent varying angle and speed on a whim, cataloguing my body’s responses, and getting slowly drunk on endorphins from both pleasure and slow-creeping exhaustion. I tried to give you what you asked, I tried because that’s what you wanted, for me to concentrate on my own pleasure before all else, learning your body and all the ways I could use it as my tool. It was hardly difficult to tell how much you got off on it, the way you smiled each time I trembled or swore or had to catch my breath, the way you whispered ‘that’s it, love, take it all.’

But in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to finish like that, because as much as you love watching me, oh darling, I love watching you. It was so good; yet, nothing compares to seeing you, knowing what I do to you, knowing how much you like it, from that twitch in your brow, that clench in your jaw to your hips flexing by reflex under me and making me see dark burning stars in a blinding sky. And then when I got it right, you let out that strangled groan and your fingers tightened around the scarf, knuckles as white as the silk.

So I did it again.

And again.

‘No, love,’ you tried when you realised what I was doing. ‘Don’t. Not for me.’

I shushed you. ‘It’s not about you, darling. It’s about what I want, and right now I want to make you come.’

Your answer was half strangled moan, half nervous laughter. That look in your eyes, I’ll never forget it. In that moment, your world was that room, that bed, me on you, around you, and nothing else. I was the centre of the universe and nothing else mattered. No one could touch us; no duty, no gods, no fate.

I put my hand on your chest for support, I could feel your heart beating under my fingers. Strong and fast; faster than it’d felt when I pinned you against that wall after over an hour of intense sparring.

‘Wait,’ you said.

You used the scarf for purchase, pulling yourself a bit higher on the pillows. You had a better view of me - of us - like this. Your gaze drifted from my mouth, down my body, pausing to follow the hand I idly palmed my cock with, before carrying on to where we were so intimately joined. But you also used the slack you’d gained to twirl the scarf around your free wrist and I couldn’t help but wonder, if maybe you’d been worried you would let go when that sweet rush came and you had to bind yourself further.

I didn’t know. I kissed you anyway, you’d been doing so well, trying so hard for me. That kiss was softer; you licked my lips gently before letting me in. I balanced myself with the palm on your torso, threaded the other one in your hair, twisted the locks around my fingers. You let a sound out, low and rumbling in our kiss. I started to move, and you followed. Almost tentatively at first, but growing more confident when I didn’t chastise you for it.

It was different from any of our other times. And not only because you were more or less tied up to the bed. No, it was different because despite looking for that illusive edge we didn’t rush for it. There was no chase, only a slow and steady build-up of emotions and pleasure, with each sigh into that kiss, each drag of skin against skin, each bead of sweat that pearled and rolled. It was like a stroll hand in hand - an odd metaphor when your hands were bound - but true nonetheless. It was like standing on top of a cliff and trusting the horizon will come to meet us as long as we kept breathing as we waited. In and out. In and out. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? How sex can mimic such an inherent part of life. So we breathed together, loved each other, patiently. Over and over again. I was getting tired but I didn't pay it any mind. It was too good to stop. You were growing more desperate. Your lips on mine a touch more urgent. Your body twitching and relaxing in turns but never pushing beyond the pace I had set. My pleasure responded to yours in slow, crashing waves. It was perfect, both duet and communion. Eventually - after what seemed a blissful eternity, yet hardly long enough, I felt you tense against me, into me. I felt you shake and start a curse you couldn’t finish. I saw your eyes scrunch shut, your jaw grow slack. When I looked up, you’d opened your grip, your wrists held up by the cradle of the scarf.

I loved that sight, darling. You’re always so focused on me, on giving me pleasure, giving me what I want, and I love you for it. But seeing you so relaxed, so abandoned. It was beautiful. You were beautiful. I sat up then, finished before you truly got back to yourself, before that blessed vision was but a memory. It didn’t take much, not when you were lying there under me, my own, hard-gained love, my tamed Behemoth.

I let the waves take me ashore. Afterwards, I closed my eyes, slowed down my breathing for a while, felt you start to soften still inside me. You were staring when I looked at you again, intent and unwavering with a half-smile on your face, but you hadn’t moved.

I lifted myself from you as carefully as I could, removed the condom, tied it and threw it in the bin. I cleaned us up with some tissues I took from the nightstand. Your chest was still rising a bit too fast, and your eyes followed me around. You didn’t speak, not until I lay back down against you, kissing your collarbone before laying my head on the pillow to look at you and make sure you could see me. So close. Yet unattainable. Your lower lip trembled in hesitation. Your free hand was tight around the scarf once more. I wanted to sleep but we were not quite done.

‘Iggy,’ you finally said.

‘Hm?’

‘Please.’

‘What is it, darling?’

‘Please. I want…’

‘This is not about what you want though, is it?’

You paused there, flushed an interesting shade of crimson that I don’t remember ever seeing on you.

‘No, it’s not,’ you said, contrite. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s quite all right. You were going to ask for something?’

‘Yes. Please, let me…’

‘Yes?’ ‘Let me hold you as we fall asleep.’

I pretended to hesitate. As if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted.

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I guess you’ve earned that.’

I lifted myself on an elbow, undid the knot tying the scarf to the headboard. It had gotten rather tight. You freed your hands, and just like that the spell broke.

A second later I was pinned under you as you kissed me with remarkable enthusiasm and possessiveness. I pushed away the locks that fell in your eyes.

‘Did you like it?’ I asked.

I knew you had, most of it anyway, but I wanted more than my own impression.

‘Of course, I did. You were amazing.’

‘Even the scarf? Was it as enjoyable as you thought it’d be?’

‘Better, love. We’ll have to do it again.’

I laughed, pulled you down to kiss you one more time.

‘Maybe I won’t release you next time.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ you smirked.

I don’t know how serious you were, but I can’t wait to find out. I do like hearing you beg after all.

We fell asleep, your arms around me as you’d promised. When I woke up, there was fresh coffee on the bedside table and an email on my phone you’d written that morning. It took me a long time to read it. Mostly because I had to stop every few lines to kiss you, and a little bit because I had to fight back the tears at your words. It didn’t help that you were watching me read it all with that soft, loving look on your face that always makes me weak.

We were still making out when the alarm blared and reminded us we had somewhere to be and friends to pick up on time. It was a lovely day but I still regret that interruption.

Thank you for that beautiful and candid letter, darling. I’ve read it so many times since the weekend. I love you. And at least, I get to show you how much now when the words don’t seem enough.

By the way, Wednesday is our four months anniversary as you well know. I’ll sort out dinner if you’re okay with it. I’ll take us somewhere nice. I wish I would have time to cook, but it’s just not feasible at the moment. I promise you a good time all the same.

Dreaming of you,

Your Blaze

 


	366. Chapter 366

> Subject: **I intend to be so forever and to give you all the happiness you truly deserve, my love**
> 
> Tue, Dec 29 at 9:39 PM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

Sweetest Blaze,

Your plan for our anniversary dinner sounds wonderful, and of course I accept. Four months! I can hardly believe it. That classified ad is still pinned up over my desk, and there’s not a day goes by that I don’t look at it and thank the stars that brought us together. I actually have a surprise for you too that should fit in perfectly afterwards. Something we meant to do once and never were able to. I want to share it with you now.

How delicious to hear your recollections of Saturday night. I’ve read them a dozen times over already, and each time I bless those stars for granting me your love, a gift I never expected and for which I’m inexpressibly grateful, every day, every waking moment. I can still see you like that when I close my eyes: riding above me, your head thrown back, your face suffused with pleasure, confident and ecstatic in your desire. What a perfect inaugural voyage for our scarf. Next time I’ll use it on you. Drop it softly over your face, watch your features tighten in anticipation as your lightning mind imagines in rapid succession everything I’m about to do to you…

But, too, those quiet moments in your apartment that afternoon were bliss. Knowing that I can look up from my book and see you simply working at the table—to bring you a cup of tea and claim a soft kiss—to cook you a simple meal—I don’t begrudge everything we’ve gone through to earn that easy comfort. I don’t think I could ever have appreciated quite so much the satisfaction of our domesticity if we hadn’t shared those trials together. Thank you for bearing them with me. The rewards are well worth the challenges we faced together. And we are the stronger for it.

I went up to the roof to write this, thinking of our early letters, all the dreams we spun together, and how far we’ve come in four short months. They didn’t seem short, did they? I remember sitting up here and trying to imagine what you looked like, my mysterious correspondent. How little I knew then what beauty I would one day have beneath my fingertips.

I loved sparring with you tonight. I love watching your body move, how you employ it as an exquisite tool, and watching your mind work too as you outmaneuver everything I can throw at you. We fit together so well, you and I. It’s an intricate dance. I find such joy in being your partner.

The moon hangs high above the Wall, nearly full. Two nights hence we’ll be standing in front of the king and you’ll receive his blessing and join me in the Crownsguard. I can’t wait to see you in your uniform. I know you’ll wear it with as much dignity and elegance as you wear everything else, even your bare skin and just a pair of gloves.

You will always be the center of my universe.

Your Behemoth

 


	367. Chapter 367

> Subject: **You only need to stay together with me.**
> 
> Tue, Dec 29 at 11:16 PM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest love,

That surprise of yours has me intrigued. I can’t wait. I hope you will like our dinner, I have made sure it would be somewhat unique too.

And, darling, do not thank me for bearing all those hardships with you. Most of them were due to my position rather than yours, and I could not have blamed you or resented you if you’d decided it was all too much trouble and had walked away. I am still in awe that you didn’t, but I have come to accept it. There is a fortitude in our love that few could comprehend and I feel blessed - not by some hypocritical god but by pure, intangible kismet - to share it with you.

But enough about the past, my love. As you said, we went through much in those four months. They felt much longer in those moments we were apart and I would have lost hope if you hadn’t always shined a guiding light in my direction, always refusing to admit to be beaten by cruel circumstances and prejudices.

Now, I only want to think about the future - how it will have no choice but to be ours. Tomorrow, we will celebrate. We need to leave my flat shortly after 7 but if you can make it here earlier, I am rather certain we can find an enjoyable way to spend that time. Thursday, His Majesty will tell the world of that title he has bestowed upon me. As honoured as I’ll be, I’ll also remember that this title tells the world, it has no say in who I love.

And beyond this… beyond this, darling, I do not know, but I cannot wait to find out as long as you’re walking that road with me. There is so much for us to share and discover, so many cheerful memories to make us forget our despair, so much pleasure to give and receive.

My duty will always be an essential part of who I am, but I will never forget that you gave me a life beyond its grasp. I will dedicate to you each and every of those endless possibilities you awoke for me. I need nothing else.

Writing all this made me miss you more. If you’re still up, would you call, love? Not for long, just for a ‘good night’ and an ‘I love you.’ I’ll sleep better for it, and I have a feeling you will too.

Blaze

 


	368. Chapter 368

 

 

(Above is an image of a mobile phone receiving a call from someone labeled "Dearest" with an icon of a behemoth.)

 


	369. Chapter 369

 

 

 

Amicitia & Scientia

Wednesday, 30th of December

 

**Menu**

 

**Hors d’oeuvre**

Paella au gratin in its scallop shell

 

    **Soup**

Season vegetables in slow-cooked garula stock

 

    **Fish**

Assorted sashimi with its accompaniment of palate-cleansing pickled ginger

 

    **Main Course**

Tenebraean garulet winter stew

 

**Dessert**

Chiffon cake (served in single plate with only one spoon as requested)

 

    **After dinner**

Cappucinos, served with miniature Altissian toast topped with season berries and melted dark chocolate

 


	370. Chapter 370

 

 

(Above is a pair of VIP backstage passes to a Hunters of Ifrit show at Skalds and Sins on Wednesday, December 30, from 10pm to 2am.)

 


	371. Chapter 371

> Subject: **To the last four months, and countless more to come**
> 
> Thu, Dec 31 at 2:44 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

My Blaze,

I had a great time tonight. It was a worthy commemoration. And I hope you won’t think me too sentimental for staying up to write this letter, especially after I insisted you needed your sleep for the big day tomorrow. But I don’t want to forget this. Can I tell you one more story?

 

***

 

When you answered the door this afternoon, you were still wearing your dress suit, and you ran your hands through your hair distractedly. There was a vast array of books and papers spread out on the table behind you.

“I’m sorry, darling, I lost track of time. I haven’t even started to get ready,” you said, pulling me inside with a kiss.

“That’s all right, love, it’s still early. What time are we due for dinner?”

“Half past seven. It’s just a short walk.”

“Lots of time, then! Don’t hurry. I’ll find something to read.” I settled down on the couch while you gathered your papers into some kind of order and went into the bathroom to get ready. I heard the shower go on, and amused myself by imagining what you were up to in there.

When you came out, you had just a towel around your waist. You started towards the bedroom, but I quirked a finger without looking up from my book. “Come here.”

You hesitated for only a moment before perching on my knee. I wanted more than that; I threw the book down, abandoning my pretense of nonchalance, and pulled you into my lap, your back pressed firmly against my chest. “Are you planning to make us late?” you asked, and although I couldn’t see your face I heard the laughter in your voice.

“We still have hours and hours.”

“One or two, I’ll grant you that. But—” your words turned into a groan as I slipped my hand inside your towel, “you’re dressed for dinner already, and I’m getting your clothes all wet.”

“Undress me, then.” I sat up straighter and spread my arms on the back of the couch. “Go on. You can start with my shirt.”

You turned on my knees to stare at me. “Aren’t you the lordling tonight?” But I could see that you weren’t unaffected. You began with the top button and worked your way down, and helped me shrug the shirt off my shoulders. Then you hung it neatly in the hall closet. You knelt before me to pull off my boots. I leaned forward and trapped your face in my hands, bringing you to my lips for a kiss.

“You’re making our progress very slow, Gladio,” you said between kisses, your hands resting on my thighs. “Very slow indeed.”

“I know. Isn’t it nice?” I leaned back to let you tug off my pants.

“Very,” you agreed, and hung them in the closet next to my shirt. When you came near again I grabbed the towel from your waist and tossed it to the floor.

“Sorry,” I said, not sorry at all, and drew you down, wet and squirming, your back against my chest again, but this time without the barrier of fabric between us. You were delicious. I wanted to taste every inch of you, like a ripe fruit. “You’re beautiful and I love you and you’re _mine,”_ I told you as I nibbled my way down your neck and across the curve of your shoulder, and you shivered thrillingly under my touch.

“If you make us late, I’m going to insist you apologize personally to the chef.”

“Hours,” I reminded you. “We won’t be late. But I think I like the idea of you shifting in your chair tonight and enjoying the memory of how well I fucked you. Would you like that too?”

Your face was turning a lovely pink, but you smirked at me over your shoulder. “Oh, really? This is your surprise? I thought it was supposed to be something we hadn’t done before.”

“I have lots of surprises, Iggy.” I pushed your hair back and kissed your ear. You rocked back against me. I love the way you shiver in my arms like that when you’re turned on, when I’m whispering filthy promises into the shell of your ear.

“Yes,” you breathed, pressing hard against me, so my aching cock slipped between the sculpted cheeks of your ass. “Yes, yes, yes,” and each word was musical, like the notes of a song. I groped blindly for the bottle of lube on the end table, where it seems to have taken up permanent residence lately.

“If we ever have guests over, we’re going to have to remember to hide this,” I said, warming the pooled liquid in my cupped hands.

“If _we_ have guests over? Are you moving in with me, dear?”

“Sure seems like it.” I let the silky liquid trickle down the small of your back, gave a few experimental thrusts. “Mmm. This is nice. I could come just like this. You’ve got a sweet ass, Iggy.”

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy.”

“Was that a _pun?”_

“Amicitia, if you intend to tease me with that thing all night, I’m sure I can find another tool to provide satisfaction.”

“I’m going to have to fuck you just to stop the puns, aren’t I? Turn around and kiss me, Scientia.” You obliged, shifting around to face me, your knees on either side of my thighs, hands braced against the top of the sofa. You kissed me like you were trying to memorize the shape of my mouth. I grabbed the curve of your ass, feeling the muscles flex beneath my hand, and fed you one finger, then two. You were hot and slippery and relaxed, groaning against my lips as I stroked your inner walls in a gesture of beckoning. I used my other hand to add more lube. Your kisses became indistinct, unfocused. I hardly had to move my fingers at all as you thrust your hips back, riding my hand, grinding down into my palm. It was good, Iggy, it was so good, your cock rubbing my belly, your beautiful face pressed against mine, and I was tempted to make you come that way, but I moved my hands to your waist instead—rewarded with a delicious sound of frustration when I removed my fingers—and I said, “You’re still working too hard. Lie down with me, love.”

And that was even better. It was just like our stories. Your smooth back fitted to the curve of my chest, my hand resting lightly on your hip. Your head lay on the pillow of my bicep and I licked your neck once or twice, grazed you with my teeth just to feel you shiver again, before I started pressing slowly into you.

“Around me. In me,” you whispered, and then I was the one to shudder, a tremor that went through my whole body like a wave.

“Oh, _fuck,_ Iggy,” I groaned, and my hips snapped forward and I buried myself in you. “Say it again.” You turned your face up to speak those words into a kiss and they turned into moans as we thrust together, my hand sliding down from the point of your hipbone to cradle your cock in the palm of my hand, in the grip of my fingers as we moved faster, sweat clinging between our bodies as we rocked into another wave together, riding it together, cresting together, finally coming to stillness, spent and happy.

After a while you turned your face up to mine again from where you’d dropped it against my arm. “And now I need another shower.”

I gave your ass a satisfying smack. “Off you go then, chop chop. Don’t want to be late for dinner.”

“Oh, you’re coming with me, darling.” I didn’t disagree. I am rather fond of your shower, Iggy, have I told you that?

We did make it out of your apartment, eventually.

 

***

 

The financial district isn’t a part of the city I’ve ever spent much time in, though I’ve driven through it many times on my way to the North Gate for short camping trips on the beach like the one I took with Noct (my heart, of course, lies always at the West Gate and magical Dawnigh. I can’t wait to take you there again someday). I guess I always assumed it would be boring. No bookstores, right? I’d heard of the suspended bridge, but never visited.

Veiled in mist rising from the lake below, wreathed with lights, the bridge was stunning. I put your hand in my coat pocket and held it close. We walked quietly amongst the groups of noisy pedestrians crowding its length. There was still a holiday spirit in the air that would keep Insomnia lively until the first day of the new year, when everyone settles down into the winter blahs again. Not us, though. Never. I felt tears prick my eyes and I leaned to kiss your hair. You squeezed my hand. “What was that for?”

“Because I love you. That’s all.”

As we walked towards the restaurant in the center of the bridge, you pointed to the other side, where all I could see were the tops of trees in the park. “There’s where they have the market on Tuesday afternoons. Where I bought the broth ingredients when you were sick. It’s not as big as the one down by the waterfront, but they have some interesting spice vendors. We should go sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

The restaurant was dim, lit only by candles and strings of lights. We were led to a table in a private alcove. I grabbed your hands across the table.

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“I hoped you’d like it,” you said, and drew my hands to your mouth to kiss the knuckles. “I’ve been planning this for a while.”

The waiter brought wine, filled our glasses, and we clinked them in silent gratitude. We talked a while. Nothing significant. Just the pleasant and relaxed exchange of words that’s always been the heart of what we share. The first dish arrived and was set before us; twin plates, shells laden with golden rice and seafood.

“It’s paella,” I said in wonder. “Iggy, that’s lovely.”

It was delicious. A small boat passed below us, lights dancing on the eddying water. “Yours was better,” you said, lifting a forkful delicately to your mouth.

“Oh, stop.” But I was secretly pleased.

The dishes arrived one after the other, all succulent and redolent with memories. Our first argument, and the bundle you sent as a peace offering by way of the hunters’ shop. Filling your cup of sake as our eyes met across Noct’s table, realizing that as hard as we’d tried to separate ourselves we could never truly do so. Retta’s book, and all the dreams of travel we’d woven around it. Our first date, and sharing that single slice of cake between our two spoons. And berries at sunrise, your fingers brushing lightly against my lips as you fed them to me, one by one, interspersed with kisses.

Oh, love, it’s late, and I should go to bed. But I had to tell you what a wonderful surprise that was. What a perfect way to remember everything we’ve shared. I saved the menu, folded in my pocket. It’ll go next to your classified ad on my wall, a permanent reminder of how lucky I am. I’ve known you since I was a child, but I’m so glad I finally met you.

Until tomorrow—and every day thereafter—

Your Behemoth

 


	372. Chapter 372

 

> Subject: **It has been a rough road, but we’ll walk it together from here on.**
> 
> Thu, Dec 31 at 6:16 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

Dearest,

Last night was fabulous, all of it, the dinner, the show, all we got up to next. It was proof we have a knack for both planning and improvisation; and it paints a rather bright and fascinating future for us; does it not, love? Just let your imagination wander for a while. 

Getting up this morning was harder, but it was all worth it. I am feeling quite restless about tonight, but paying mind to my nerves is unhelpful. I know this is a great honour, but I will be glad when this day is over, when everything is set in stone in the public eye, when I can get on with my affairs and learn how to balance it all. And it will also mean that we’re almost at the weekend again; and darling, I am definitely looking forward to that.

I noticed you stopped your lovely recollections right before I found out about your surprise, offering me a silent baton as it were. So I shall carry on. The rest of the evening was, well… Shall we say ‘interesting’? Especially the very end. I remember you enjoyed it a lot. Loudly at that. I loved every second of it.

Let’s get back to those retellings we can smirk about once we’re old and grey and without a care in the world. The meal made me happy. Your eyes widened at each new dish and what it represented. I thought you might laugh at me when I was planning it, that maybe it was too much, overdone, but you didn’t. You just smiled wider and wider, and took my hand in yours across the table and didn’t let go, brought it to your lips once or twice. I was feeling more at peace than I can ever remember, the result of a perfect combination of factors I presume; a great orgasm - yes, darling, I could still feel you, good food, warm sake, and your eyes on me as you fed me cake with that single spoon I’d requested because we didn’t have to pretend anymore.

I’d almost forgotten about the surprise you'd promised me, when you called the waiter, got him to lean towards you and spoke in muted tones.

‘Just ordering us a taxi,’ you said in answer to my questioning look.

The care you took to hide the destination from me made me laugh. I found myself inside of one of those erotica novels you’ve given me a taste for, ready to be swept off my feet by some grand romantic gesture the perfect love I had the good fortune to stumble upon would gift me.

The road we took was familiar though. We didn’t go far, ten minutes or so and we turned into a familiar street. I had my doubts by that point, but that confirmed them.

‘The Skalds and Sins?’

You hummed softly. The uncertainty I was feeling at returning there after what happened during that awful first meeting must have shown on my face. You squeezed my hand in reassurance.

‘It’s okay, love. You’ll see.’

‘I trust you.’

I don’t know why I said it. It seemed an important statement to make in that place, after everything.

We got out of the car, you didn’t let go of my hand, but produced two lanyards and cards from your pocket with a smile.

‘You’ve been too busy to keep an eye out on Hunters of Ifrit, haven’t you?’

You looked remarkably pleased with yourself. And Shiva have mercy, but you’re hot when you’re smug. I plucked one of the cards from your fingers, pecked your lips.

‘V.I.P. passes? Good job, darling.’

‘I thought you’d appreciate not being squeezed from all sides.’

‘I’m still getting squeezed from one side, aren’t I?’

‘No escaping that I’m afraid.’

‘Good.’

We got there just in time to grab a drink and found a good spot past the barriers, on the side of the stage. You’d brought good quality ear plugs as well; thankfully always the prepared boy scout. I have to say watching the crowd squirming into the pit elbowing each other when we were comfortably leaning against the wall with our glasses and a perfect view of the band was rather pleasing. You better not turn me into some kind of aristocrat used to always getting preferential treatment. But this was a special occasion, so we could get away with it. Next time, you’re coming into the pit with me.

Anyway, the show was as good as usual. I am always impressed by the endless energy this band has on stage. The beginning of the setlist was mostly composed of their better known tracks. It was lovely and familiar, easy to appreciate. After a few songs, you took my empty glass from my hand, set it on the floor out of the way, before slipping your arms around my waist. You said something in my ear during one of the transitions but the singer was speaking and I didn’t catch what you said. I turned around in your hold.

‘What?’

You leant in to speak in my ear.

‘You’re grinning.’

‘Am I?’

‘Yes. Since they started playing. I knew you liked the music, I didn’t think it made you _this_ happy.’

‘It’s energising.’

‘That it is. And you’re gorgeous.’

‘Are you enjoying it?’

‘It’s perfect,’ you said.

But you were still looking at me, and I had to roll my eyes at your cheesiness.

‘I do like it,’ you added. ‘But I’d lie if I didn’t admit to liking it even more for the company.’

‘So do I.’

’See.’

Your mouth trailed down my neck. We were to the side, hardly the centre of attention but still visible from the room and I couldn’t help but look around before remembering that this was fine, that it didn’t matter anymore. I relaxed against you, the rest of the set was superb but somehow the memory of it is a lot more blurred.

At the intermission, I headed to the restroom; but when I came back, you were not where I’d left you. I hesitated, looking for you in the crowd when one of the barmen called me. He had served us earlier, detached and professional. Now, he looked in a great mood and was smirking a little.

‘The gentleman over there has bought you a drink,’ he said with an overt wink.

He put a glass in front of me on the bar. Aged mezcal. Tasteful. And expensive. I looked over where he’d gestured, and there you were, at the other end of the bar. You raised your drink with a nod and a smile.

I took my time, tasted the alcohol, swirled it in my mouth before swallowing. You have good taste, darling. Finally, I gave you a nod, inviting you closer. You took the stool next to me, pulling it out enough that we could face each other.

‘Thank you for the drink,’ I said.

‘Thank you for accepting it. Finding something worthy of you was difficult.’

‘Of me?’

‘Saw you right when I came in. So damn gorgeous. I thought of walking up to you, but you give that distant vibe. You keep yourself walled-off, don’t you?’

‘Yet, here you are.’

You smirked.

‘So I am. What do they call you?’

I pretended to hesitate, drummed my nails against the glass to the beat of the background music. I let my eyes trail down your body and back, slowly, without even pretending I wasn’t sizing you up. You smiled wider and flexed. I kept myself impassive. It was much harder work than I let on.

‘You can call me Blaze,’ I said finally.

‘Blaze, eh? I like that.’

‘I bet you do.’

I drank some more. I could feel the alcohol doing its work, loosening my nerves, warming my core. I wasn’t quite drunk but I certainly wasn’t sober, and neither were you.

‘Going to give me a name?’

‘They call me Behemoth.’

‘Do they now?’

‘For good reasons, I assure you.’

You wiggled a suggestive eyebrow and I laughed.

‘So what do you do, Blaze?’

‘You, maybe. Buy me another drink while I think about it.’

‘Strictly business, I see.’

‘Why else would I be sitting at this bar all by myself?’

‘No complaint from me.’

You did get us another round. We were halfway through drinking it, when we heard the announcement that the show would resume shortly. The second part would probably mostly be from the new album I didn’t know that well, and it was already late. If we stayed for it, the night would be over. We had to get some sleep before the ceremony the next evening.

I leant forward, placed a hand on your thigh and dragged it slowly towards your groin. Your leather pants were smooth and warm under my palm. You were not breathing.

‘Want to get out of here?’ I asked.

You hesitated.

‘What about the show?’

‘I’ve seen enough. But if you’d rather stay here than come home with me…’

‘Let’s go.’

We got out on the street, it was windy and freezing. But your mouth was burning when it crashed against mine and you pushed me against the brick wall. You were hungry, forceful, hard already against my thigh. I twisted my fingers in your hair - fiercely, took control of the kiss. You fought me for it, but relented when I bit your lip. Finally, I pulled you away.

‘Enough. You, sir, have a date with my couch.’

‘Your couch? Most people would say “my bed”?’

‘I’m not most people.’

‘You don’t say.’

‘Besides, wait until you see my couch, you’ll get it then.’

We sat in the taxi in silence, my hand back on your thigh, too high to be decent. I wasn’t sure how far you wanted to take this, but I was enjoying it too much to stop. It was liberating and simple, no second-guessing, no consideration other than the pleasure we were seeking.

The taxi pulled up in front of my building. I knew it would make sense for you to continue home. It was late already, but the thought of it was excruciating. I broke character for a moment, took your face in my hands, kissed you.

‘Don’t go,’ I said. I knew I was pleading. I didn’t care. Your hand covered mine, drew it to your lips so you could kiss my palm. And then you took it and put it back down on your thigh, where it’d been the whole ride.

‘Where would I go? I have to see that famous couch.’

‘It’s burgundy,’ I explained as if revealing one of the great secrets of the universe.

‘Amazing.’

I paid the driver and we got out, stumbled into the lift and rode it to my floor. You’d pushed me in a corner before the door even closed and didn’t release me when it opened again. We smelled of nightlife - alcohol, smoke effects, and sharp sweat belonging to too many strangers. I would have hated it usually. But as it was, it only served to heighten the fantasy.

‘The couch is right there,’ I finally managed as you deserted my lips to suck down my neck.

You grumbled but we finally made it to my front door. I fumbled with the keys, dropped them when you slapped my ass.

‘Those pants are a sin.’

‘You’re one to talk.’

There was a sound to the side and I looked up just in time to see Sania staring at us through her cracked door and shaking her head with an expression halfway between fondness and exasperation. She shut her door again.

‘Who was that?’

‘My neighbour. She’s nosy. Don’t mind her.’

I managed to get the door open, pushed you through. You stepped in the sitting room, eyed the couch appreciatively. As I came in, I suddenly realised how we’d left things. The open pack of condoms on the table, spilling its contents. The torn wrapper on the floor where you’d dropped it. The bottle of lube abandoned on the cushions.

I knew you wouldn’t just pretend the mess wasn’t there. I was right. You smirked.

‘Rather busy, aren’t you?’

But it turns out being quick-minded has advantages beyond the realm of strategy.

‘Just released some tension before I went out. It puts me in the mood, but still had to be careful not to soil my clothes.’

‘I see. Well, at least we have all we need.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Oh, and Blaze?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I do love the couch.’

‘You’re going to love it even more in a minute.’

I pushed you backwards towards it, made you sit. It was different from that first Friday. There was no room for hesitation. I knelt between your legs, opened your fly. Of course, you weren’t wearing any underwear. I stroked your cock; your skin was soft as velvet but the flesh underneath was so hard. You swore, pushed into my hand. I let go, backhanded your thigh.

‘Take off your pants.’

‘Bossy much?’

‘Can’t handle it?’

‘Oh I can handle it just fine.’

‘Good, then take off your pants.’

You did as I grabbed the packet of condoms. I got my hand back on you, soon after my mouth. This was never going to be an easy job, and I couldn’t help but point it out. You laughed, your thumb tracing the corner of my lips.

‘I didn’t get that. Also don’t speak with your mouth full.’

I let go of you, repeated more intelligibly.

‘I said “Behemoth indeed”.’

‘Can’t handle it?’

‘Didn’t hear you complain.’

‘Hm. Do it again, just to make sure.’

I did. And I dare say you got rather into it. But it wasn’t quite what I had in mind. I let my hands slide to the outside of your thighs, just under your hips, got a good grip and pulled you down so your ass hung just over the edge of the couch. You let out a noise of protest.

‘Don’t move,’ I said and grabbed the lube before getting back to it.

It didn’t take long before you rocked down on my fingers and up in my mouth. It was a nice easy rhythm, felt like the dirtiest thing I’d ever done and was wonderfully satisfying.

‘Fuck, Blaze,’ you whispered. ‘You’re good. So fucking good.’

I’d only brushed against your prostate so far, but I gave you more this time around. I knew I was cheating, using the intimate knowledge I’d gathered during the past couple of weeks about what you love, what you can take; but as much as this was a fantasy, its main goal was to make you feel as much pleasure as I could. Nothing else. You cried out, loud and beautiful, and thrust up, choking me. I let go, coughed a few times. Your hand rested on my cheek, soothing, but the words that followed were still very much in character.

‘Sorry, but that was kind of your fault.’

‘It was,’ I admitted, feeling more smug than I should have.

But something else grabbed my attention as I caught my breath. The faint but distinct sound of rain; it drew my gaze to the sitting room floor-length windows. The drops were sparse but heavy; the kind of rain that tries to masquerade as snow until it touches the ground and its deceit becomes plain. In an instant, my plans had changed.

’Take off your shirt,’ I ordered as I stripped out of my own clothes.

You obeyed, before leaning back on the couch, watching me undress while gently palming your cock. Your abs glistened, highlighted in a mess of fluid and lube. You looked filthy and I loved it. You smiled, spread your legs in invitation when I took a step closer. But I didn’t settle down with you, I only leant over the couch to turn off the lights.

We could still see enough, of course. The electrical lights of the financial district never get fully dimmed and glowed softly from the outside.

You sat up straighter, obviously confused.

‘I’m not fucking you here.’

‘After all that talk about your couch, you’re going to make us use the bed?’

‘No bed either.’

‘Okay,’ you said, dragging the word a second too long. ‘I’m listening.’

I wasn’t talking. I took your hand in mine, pulled you up, and walked you over to the window. We were high up, and from the outside the flat had to look pitch black.

‘Hands on the glass.’

Your breathing was short, a bit too deep. I caught your eyes and you nodded with a hint of a smile - it only lasted for a second but it was enough. You braced yourself against the window. I traced your spine with two fingertips, light at first, then pushing a touch to encourage you to lean forward and arch your back. You yielded beautifully.

‘Do you like the rain, Behemoth?’

I heard you swallow in the dark room.

‘I do. Sometimes, I go to the roof of my building and stay there under the rain, watching the city.’

My palm caressed the curve of your ass, enjoying the subtle but perfect muscle definition there.

‘It’ll be different now. Every time you do this, you’ll remember that one other time you looked at the city under the rain, in the middle of the night, clinging to a window…’

I pushed in.

‘… while I fucked you.’

I pulled out slowly, before burying myself into you again, fully this time. You felt so warm and perfect. I twisted my fingers in your hair, pulled your head back so I could murmur into your ear.

‘You’ll always remember this, Behemoth,’ I said as I began to move.

‘Yes, Blaze. Yes.’

You sounded out of breath already. We had barely started.

Of course, we were acting a rough, desire-driven fantasy, but I can’t overemphasise the beauty of it, darling. The city an indistinct maze of lights far beneath us, the darkening clouds that were illuminated by short bursts of lightning, the quiet dance of the rain against the glass mixed with the unmistakable sound of vigorous fucking, and you panting, desperate and magnificent at the forefront of it all.

It was obscene and holy all at once; a strange marriage I couldn’t comprehend but sensed all the same.

But beyond it all, it was hard and fast. And good. So good. You really did cling to that window, and begged for me, for more - ‘fuck me,’ ‘harder,’ ´hot, so hot,’ ‘don’t stop,’ and ‘please, Blaze… please,’ and whines and groans and strangled breaths. You felt incredible, but I could have come just listening to your broken words and the sounds you made. As it was, the combination was exquisite and too much for me to endure for long. I gave you all I had, probably more. There were no cresting waves this time around, only a whole ocean swelling all at once and threatening to break and wash away everything.

My fingers were tight on your waist. Our efforts beautifully in sync, me driving into you as you ground against me, over and over again. The air was filled with your pleas and cries, the moans I bit into your shoulder as you shuddered in response. All of it, urgent and burning, and perfect. But it was going to be all over, all too soon. Probably a good thing considering the late hour, but still regrettable.

I traced the line of your cock with my fingertips, didn’t get a chance to take you properly in hand before you cursed and came, your hips flexing by reflex. I didn't let up, followed you, drove into you as you cried out. Eventually, you hung your head between your arms, breathing heavily, let me finish, each thrust making you groan softly. I joined you soon enough.

When it was over, I pulled out of you carefully, got rid of the condom. When I turned around, you’d straightened up but were still leaning against the glass.

‘Okay?’ I asked as I came close.

‘Fuck, Blaze. Better than. That was great.’

‘It was, wasn't it?’

‘Come here. The glass is cool, it’s nice.’

And it was. You pushed me against it, kissed me, more tenderly perhaps than the fantasy demanded. I didn’t mind. At all.

‘I should go,’ you said finally.

‘It’s getting late,’ I agreed, as much as I didn’t want to.

You pulled your clothes back on. I only grabbed my pants to be decent to open the door. I needed a shower before I headed to bed anyway.

‘Hey, Blaze. Listen, could we do this again sometime?’

You were shifting your weight from foot to foot, almost embarrassed. It was cute.

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘You still need to show me why they call you Behemoth.’

‘You know why.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, before putting my arms around your neck and adding, my lips hovering over yours. ‘But I want to feel it.’

You coughed a strangled curse and kissed me hard.

‘You’re a menace.’

‘I know.’

I let go and walked to the kitchen counter, grabbed a pen and scribbled on a piece of paper.

‘Here. Let’s talk when you have time.’

I handed it to you, and you bit your lip not to laugh when you realised I’d given you Blaze’s email address.

‘Looking forward to it,’ you said with an amused smile. ‘I had a great time.’

‘Me too.’

You opened the door, leant in to kiss my cheek and waved goodbye. I shut it behind you because I had to, but could only keep it closed for a couple of seconds. I wrenched it open, fearing you'd be in the lift already, but you stood there, one hand raised ready to knock on the door again.

We looked at each other, burst out laughing.

‘Couldn’t leave without a real goodbye,’ you said.

‘I love you.’

It was hardly an adequate reply but as the words left my mouth I realised how desperate I’d been to let them out. You pulled me against you, gentle and careful this time, kissed me softly.

‘I love you too.’

‘You could stay.’

Another thing I had been wanting to say, but hadn’t planned to. I know how much you give me already, I don’t want to be unreasonable. Exhaustion, endorphins, and lingering alcohol were getting the best of me.

‘I would have to get up stupidly early to go home and get changed. And I’d probably wake you. It’s late already, you need to sleep.’

‘You could keep a change of clothes here, you know.’

You smiled, wide and happy.

‘It will look even more like I’m moving in.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Then I will.’

You kissed me again.

‘I’ll see you tonight,’ you said.

‘Tonight. Sweet dreams.’

‘You too, love.’

You left this time and I went back inside. The flat was a mess, there were shiny hand prints on my sitting room window. It made me happy. I had a shower and went to bed.

I woke up a little while ago, sat on the couch with my morning coffee and read your lovely email. Then I had to type all this before I forgot any of it. I hope you got some sleep.

It was fun, darling. So much fun. And I can’t wait to see what other spontaneous games we can come up with.

Only a few hours to go. I’ll see you soon. You can’t miss me, we’ll be wearing matching uniforms. I love you.

Ignis, Blaze, yours.

 


	373. Chapter 373

 

 

Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Folks, here I am at the 1st ascension ceremony for a Royal Strategist in over 600 years. How'd I score a press pass? Your pal Dino has ways!  
  
12/31/752, 9:53 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
This Ignis Scientia kid is one tall drink of water, lemme tell ya. Wouldn't mind taking a dip some hot summer night... #MeetMeAtGaldinQuay  
  
12/31/752, 9:55 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Sorry loyal followers, no photos. Gotta have something to sell the Insomnia Daily at the end of the night #DinoDontDoNothingForFree  
  
12/31/752, 9:56 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Seems pretty quiet though. Hasn't said a word all night. HRM doing most of the talking. But you know what they say... #StillWatersRunDeep  
  
12/31/752, 9:58 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
How deep? Wouldn't your pal Dino like to know!  
  
12/31/752, 10:02 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
I'd watch out for the big guy by his side, though. Been hearing rumors about those two for a while now. (Anyone get pix at the festival????)  
  
12/31/752, 10:03 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Prince's Shield + Royal Strategist. Talk about a power couple. Think they're accepting applications for a 3rd in bed? #GimmeThatLance  
  
12/31/752, 10:05 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
And now things are getting interesting. Scientia kneeling before HRM to recite his vows. Eternal loyalty and service to Crystal & Crown, etc  
  
12/31/752, 10:26 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Pledging his life to Lucis. Too crowded to get a good shot of him on his knees. Filing the mental image away for later reference #HotHotHot  
  
12/31/752, 10:43 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
It actually is hotter than Ifrit's balls in here. Kid must be sweating under that uniform. How long does this usually take? I'm on deadline!  
  
12/31/752, 10:58 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Now this is unusual. Heard rumors he'd added something of his own to the vows & this must be it. Swearing specifically to serve the prince??  
  
12/31/752, 11:14 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
HRM whips out his sword to give the old one-two on the shoulders. There it is, folks, we have a Royal Strategist again. Best of luck to him  
  
12/31/752, 11:31 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Now the mingling. Here come servers with the champagne flutes. Amicitia chatting politely with the Marshal. HRH gives Scientia a big hug...  
  
12/31/752, 11:42 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Ain't that sweeter than Shiva's tits. Prince Noctis seems very fond of his tutor. Looks healthier than at his last public appearance, too!  
  
12/31/752, 11:44 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Wait a minute! Shield and Strategist are up to something. Edging (inconspicuously, they think) towards the exit... #OnToThem #NotSoFastBoys  
  
12/31/752, 11:54 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
We're in the Palace Gardens! Now this is a scoop. Great position behind a huge ornamental urn. Perfect lighting, thanks to the full moon...  
  
12/31/752,11:57 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Amicitia leaning in for the kiss. This is the money shot, folks  
  
12/31/752, 11:59 PM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Jwfjejfjwifekvvgjcjcj  
  
1/1/753, 12:01 AM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Well, shit. That Scientia kid has a killer right hook. I might be sporting one hell of a shiner tomorrow morning... #ItsAlwaysTheQuietOnes  
  
1/1/753, 12:07 AM  
  
  
Dino G @DinoGhiranze  
  
Signing off, your pal, Dino. Look for my story in the morning edition of the Insomnia Daily! #DangerousJob #ButSomeonesGottaDoIt #ForMyFans  
  
1/1/753,12:09 AM

 


	374. Chapter 374

> Subject: **I knew you’d look great in the uniform. You were beautiful. Especially when you decked that papparazzo**
> 
> Fri, Jan 1 at 1:38 AM
> 
> From: behemoth@eosmail.com
> 
> To: blaze@eosmail.com

 

My Blaze,

You took sacred vows tonight. In that spirit, and with the image of the Crystal still hanging before my eyes, I wish to give you mine as well.

Ignis, with all my heart, I will protect you and stay by your side through whatever may come, be it peace or disaster. I am bound by my duty to the Crown, but I give myself now the twin duty of guarding your happiness insofar as I am able. I fear we may have short years before war comes to our Wall. Let us grasp as much joy as we can in this present time. I won’t fear the future, not with you beside me. I only pray I can make you as happy as you’ve made me—now, and forever.

I will love you until the end of time,

Gladiolus Amicitia, your Behemoth

 


	375. Chapter 375

> Subject: **Not exactly dignified, but our time together is precious, and I did warn him.**
> 
> Fri, Jan 1 at 2:34 AM
> 
> From: blaze@eosmail.com
> 
> To: behemoth@eosmail.com

 

My dearest love, My darling Behemoth, My Gladiolus,

You told me a while ago ‘it’s your words I fell in love with.’ Much happened shortly after, and I didn’t get a chance to answer you properly. I didn’t get to tell you how from that first letter you sent I was enraptured by the sincerity and soulfulness that imbued your words; how before I knew who you were I was already taken by your complex, yet straightforward nature. I’ve never understood fully what it is about you that makes me want to surrender my hard-learnt wariness, and believe and trust; but it matters not.

Believe and trust I do, my darling love. I trust in you and I believe in the delightful vows you wrote for me.

I read them over and over again with tears in my eyes and elation in my heart. This is a new dawn for us. Not because of the vows I took today. They may have seemed grandiose and important, but they were only a rendition of a duty I have moulded myself to fulfil. They were nothing new. They were the same sacred oath I made to Noctis years ago, wrapped in a pretty bow and masqueraded for all to see.

Your words will always be the highlight of this day, the day you promised yourself to me. You did so after vanquishing all the obstacles that stood in our way even when I thought it impossible. You said once you would rearrange the stars for me and you might as well have done so.

So here, let me make you a promise as well.

I will be yours in all the ways I can from now to the end of our lives, and will trust you to understand and accept the ways I cannot. I will give you my heart to protect, I will show you the thoughts I keep hidden, I will gather everything that is mine to offer and lay it at your feet for safekeeping.

I will remind you that I see all the facets of you, the ones you let shine and the ones you do not. I see your strength, I see your courage, I see your goodness. I also see your doubts, I see your sensitive heart, I see your creativity, I see your selflessness, I see your discontent. I see them and I know you, my love, my darling, beyond your name, and your title, and the weight of history and duty on your shoulders.

I will love and shelter all you are, I will strive to be the haven where you never have to hide or pretend. Our love is a sanctum we will guard together. Whatever may come, its sanctuary is ours; one gods and dark and duty and fate cannot violate nor mar. Let’s lay in its embrace for evermore.

I love you. Now and for all that is still to come.

Ignis Scientia, your Blaze

 


	376. Chapter 376

 

 

Friday, January 1, 753

REGIS CXIII APPOINTS ROYAL STRATEGIST

By DINO GHIRANZE, Special to the Insomnia Daily

CITADEL, INSOMNIA—In a gala event last night, King Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII was graciously pleased to signify His Majesty's intention of conferring Knighthood of the Lucian Kingdom on Ignis Scientia, formerly Royal Secretary to the Most Honourable Privy Council and now to serve as Royal Strategist, a title left unheld for more than 600 years and already dubbed by some as "The People's Strategist." After King Regis thanked young Scientia for his political and public services, he was inducted into the Crownsguard.

Following the ascension ceremony, eminent guests enjoyed a reception in a spectacular setting overlooking the Crystal chamber, while other revelers sought quieter accord in the adjacent garden bowers. It was also the first occasion on which the newly knighted Royal Strategist appeared publicly with Lord Gladiolus Amicitia, the prince's sworn Shield. Although sources have speculated for weeks now that the two are an item, their appearance at last evening's ceremony confirmed the rumors of romance between two of the royal family's most devoted retainers, who were seen leaving arm in arm.

Photo caption: At left, Lord Gladiolus Amicitia, Shield of his Royal Highness, in an embrace with Sir Ignis Scientia, Royal Strategist of the Realm

 


	377. Chapter 377

 

**Authors' Note**

 

Thank you so much to everyone who's been a part of this story, from the readers and commenters to the artists who very generously shared their talents and made Blaze and Behemoth's adventures a lot more fun. It wouldn't have been the same without you! In order of appearance, our visual contributors:

  * Tikali ([Asoeiki](https://asoeiki.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr)
  * Lishtar ([Dyslexiac](https://twitter.com/dyslexiac) on Twitter)
  * Chiii ([Chiii](https://chipeppers.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr)
  * Wabbajacked ([Iontorch](https://iontorch.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr)
  * Raufnir ([Expectogladiolus](https://expectogladiolus.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr)
  * Jakface ([Jakface](https://jakface.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr)
  * Also many thanks to Steggie ([theSteggie](https://thesteggie.tumblr.com) on Tumblr) for implementing and maintaining the Twitter and mailing list bots and letting everybody know about updates in real time.



 

If you want a tiny bit more Classified, we made an announcement on our Tumblr blogs and Twitter yesterday that you might be interested in. You can follow us on social media here:

  * 1000 Needles ([Billionhighways](https://billionhighways.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr,[ Onethouneedles](https://twitter.com/onethouneedles) on Twitter)
  * Sekiei ([Nomadsky](https://nomadsky.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr,[ Chosekiei](https://twitter.com/chosekiei) on Twitter)



 

And if you’d like to try making the recipes from this story, you can find them via the following links:

  * [Garula Stock](https://ffrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/03/31/garula-stock/)
  * [Insomnia-Style Ramen Toppings](https://ffrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/04/26/insomnia-style-ramen-toppings/)
  * [Tenebraean Garulet Winter Stew](https://ffrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/05/23/tenebraean-garulet-winter-stew/)
  * [Fisherman's Favorite Paella](https://ffrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/06/28/fishermans-favorite-paella/)
  * [Grilled Wild Barramundi](https://ffrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/07/19/grilled-wild-barramundi/)
  * [Grilled Saxham Beans and Peaches](https://ffrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/07/19/grilled-saxham-beans-and-peaches/)
  * [Coctura's White Fish in Tomato Sauce](https://ffrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/07/28/cocturas-white-fish-in-tomato-sauce/)
  * [Prime Garula Rib](https://ffrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/prime-garula-rib/)
  * [Breaded Cutlet with Tomato](https://ffrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/08/06/breaded-cutlet-with-tomato/)



 

When we started writing Classified back in early April, we had no idea we'd be publishing the final chapters on August 14 (or 15, depending on which time zone you're in). What we originally intended as an amusing side project quickly grew into a novel-length story with multiple daily chapters, cooking projects, handmade arts, and so much more. It's been four incredible, intense months, many highs, some lows, but never boring. Thank you for joining us on this adventure.

 

_—1000 Needles and Sekiei_

 

 

THE END

 


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